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Title: Pirate Princes and Yankee Jacks

Author: Daniel Henderson

Release date: September 5, 2020 [eBook #63124]

Language: English

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PIRATE PRINCES AND YANKEE JACKS


      *      *      *      *      *      *

_BY THE SAME AUTHOR_


JUNGLE ROADS

     And Other Trails of Roosevelt


BOONE OF THE WILDERNESS

     A Tale of Pioneer Adventure and Achievement in the "Dark and
     Bloody Ground"


LIFE'S MINSTREL

     A Book of Verse


E. P. DUTTON & COMPANY

      *      *      *      *      *      *


[Illustration: STEPHEN DECATUR.

_From a painting by Rembrandt Peale._]


PIRATE PRINCES AND YANKEE JACKS

Setting forth David Forsyth's Adventures in America's Battles on Sea
and Desert with the Buccaneer Princes of Barbary, with an Account of
a Search under the Sands of the Sahara Desert for the Treasure-filled
Tomb of Ancient Kings

by

DANIEL HENDERSON

Author of "Boone of the Wilderness," "Jungle Roads
and Other Trails of Roosevelt"


[Illustration: Logo]






New York
E. P. Dutton & Company
681 Fifth Avenue

Copyright, 1923, By E. P. DUTTON & COMPANY

All Rights Reserved

Printed in the United States of America




THIS BOOK IS A TRIBUTE TO THE MEN AND BOYS WHO CREATED AND SERVED IN
AMERICA'S FIRST NAVY

     "_The ship of war, with its acres of canvas, white in the morning
     sun, has sunk forever below the horizon.... No longer is the
     hoarse voice of the captain heard shouting to the tops or to the
     gun-deck in stentorian tones.... All have gone from the deck of
     the galley, the frigate, the line-of-battle ship, from the decks
     where, in the teeth of gales, they clawed off lee shores, when
     the mouths of their guns drank in the seas, or fought the fogs or
     Arctic cold; from the decks where they led the changing fortunes
     of the fight in the din of desperate battle; where men take life
     at the uttermost hazard and clasp hands with fate._"
     --EDWARD KIRK RAWSON.




FOREWORD

The road cleft by early American ships into the Mediterranean Sea has
become a well-traveled one. On errands of commerce, punishment or
relief, our skippers have laid an ever-broadening way into the Orient.

Yet who, in the bustle of the present, recalls the pioneer American
captains and sailors who once suffered slavery and torture to make
the Mediterranean a safe sea for Yankee vessels? Who remembers the
Americans who lay for nine years in Turkish prisons? Who recalls
General William Eaton, who led a little band of Americans and Greeks
on a desperate venture across the North African desert to release the
imprisoned crew of the _Philadelphia_ from Turkish bondage, and who,
for the first time, raised the United States flag over a fort of the
old world?

It is to make this period and its heroic characters live again in the
mind of America that this volume has been written. To link the several
campaigns against the Turks of Barbary, extending over a period of
fifteen years, the author has adopted the method he followed in his
book "Boone of the Wilderness," and introduced characters and episodes
of fiction. The material is largely derived from original sources.

Permit us, then, without further ado, to present and commend to your
interest the young sailor David Forsyth, who is at times the hero of
the yarn, but quite as often a spectator and historian of the deeds of
the brave men under whom he was privileged to serve. Do not hold his
youth against him. Nelson went to sea at twelve; Drake was scarcely
more than a boy when he fought on the Spanish Main; and Decatur and
many other gallant American officers under whom David served were mere
striplings. Youth was foremost on the sea in those days, and it is
hoped that its ardent spirit flames in this volume, though a century's
dust covers our heroes.




CONTENTS

CHAPTER                                                    PAGE
    I. THE MAN FROM THE EAST                                  1

   II. CAPTURED BY CORSAIRS                                  16

  III. BARBARY AND THE BUCCANEERS                            25

   IV. _The Rose of Egypt_                                   40

    V. MY FIRST VOYAGE                                       46

   VI. MUTINY                                                56

  VII. BETRAYED                                              64

 VIII. AN AMERICAN FRIGATE BECOMES A CORSAIR'S CATTLESHIP    74

   IX. LIFE ABOARD _Old Ironsides_                           82

    X. A CONNECTICUT YANKEE IN THE COURT OF TUNIS            95

   XI. THE LOSS OF _The Philadelphia_                       109

  XII. WE BLOW UP _The Philadelphia_                        116

 XIII. THE AMERICAN EAGLE ENTERS THE AFRICAN DESERT         126

  XIV. THE DESERT GIRL                                      140

   XV. REUBEN JAMES SAVES DECATUR'S LIFE                    154

  XVI. WE CAPTURE THE DESERT CITY OF DERNE                  162

 XVII. THE TREASURE TOMB                                    177

XVIII. SOLD INTO SLAVERY                                    187

  XIX. THE ESCAPE                                           198

   XX. HOME SURPRISES                                       220

POSTSCRIPT. THE END OF THE PIRATES                          228

BIBLIOGRAPHY                                                234




ILLUSTRATIONS


STEPHEN DECATUR, _from a painting by Rembrandt
Peale_                                           _Frontispiece_

                                                           PAGE
"I'D BLOW EVERY ONE OF THOSE PIRATE NESTS OUT OF
THE WATER BEFORE I'D PAY ONE OF THOSE BLOODY
BASHAWS A SIXPENCE!" SAID THE COMMODORE                      13

WRECKING AND PIRACY HAD BEEN FOLLOWED BY THE
COMMUNITIES BORDERING ON THE MEDITERRANEAN
SINCE THE EARLIEST DAYS                                      35

IN LOOK AND IN DEED, WILLIAM EATON WAS A FIGHTER             94

"HOW DARE YOU LIFT YOUR HAND AGAINST A SUBJECT
OF MINE," THE BEY OF TUNIS DEMANDED OF EATON                101

I HOPED THAT I MIGHT JOIN A CARAVAN THAT WOULD
PASS BY TOKRA--THE TREASURE CITY OF MY DREAMS               105

"WE ARE BOUND ACROSS THIS GLOOMY DESERT TO
LIBERATE THREE HUNDRED AMERICANS FROM THE
CHAINS OF BARBARISM."--General Eaton                        135

THIS WAS THE FIRST TIME AN AMERICAN FLAG HAD
BEEN RAISED ON A FORT OF THE OLD WORLD                      165




PIRATE PRINCES AND YANKEE JACKS




CHARACTERS OF THE STORY


DAVID FORSYTH, an orphan.

ALEXANDER, his brother.

REV. EZEKIEL ECCLESTON, D.D., Rector of Marley Chapel,
Baltimore--David's guardian.

COMMODORE JOSHUA BARNEY, of the United States Navy.

GENERAL WILLIAM EATON, in command of the American expedition by land
against Tripoli.

MURAD, an Egyptian.

BLUDSOE, mate of _The Rose of Egypt_.

ANNE, "The Desert Girl."

MUSTAPHA, An Arab boy.

STEPHEN DECATUR, WILLIAM BAINBRIDGE, EDWARD PREBLE, RICHARD SOMERS,
REUBEN JAMES, SAMUEL CHILDS, and other officers and men of the United
States Navy.




PIRATE PRINCES AND YANKEE JACKS


CHAPTER I

THE MAN FROM THE EAST


"But, my dear Doctor," said the swarthy Egyptian, bowing with upturned
palms, "you surely do not mean to keep the location of this treasure
tomb hidden forever from science. I know that a man of your nature
would not care for the money the jewels and trinkets would bring if
sold, but I can not see how you can refuse to let scholars view these
rare specimens of ancient art. Will you not----"

"I beg you," said the rector in distressed tones, "to speak no more
about it. The subject awakens unpleasant memories. I have never before
mentioned having seen this treasure tomb. So far as I am concerned the
desert sands shall not be moved from over its door. Please, my good
friend, do not refer to it again!"

"But," began the Egyptian.

Commodore Barney jerked him to one side. "Look here, Mr. Murad," he
said in gruff tones, "Dr. Eccleston lost a wife and child in that
exploration. He came to this country to forget his loss. Keep off the
subject of those antiques--the chances are that they're not worth the
trouble it would take to dig them up!"

"He has a secret that he owes to science," said the Oriental
stubbornly. He was a proud, determined man. The black moustache that
flowed across his tawny face and the black hair that showed in strings
beneath his fez gave an added fierceness to his look. His brilliantly
embroidered cloak made him still more commanding in appearance.
Commodore Barney, with his stout body and sea legs, cut a poor figure
beside him.

"Harken, my friend," the commodore said sharply, "I mean what I say.
We're not going to have the rector bothered. We don't know your
business in America, and we're not inquiring into it. In return, we ask
you to let us mind our own affairs. If you know what's good for you,
you'll stop hounding the minister for his secret. Science be blowed!
Art be hanged!"

Alexander and I, David Forsyth, listened with eyes popping. Orphans
we were, adopted by Dr. Eccleston, our mother's rector. My father--as
brave a sailor as ever drew breath, Commodore Barney often assured
us--had been killed on board the commodore's schooner _Hyder Ally_,
while protecting the shipping in the Delaware River from British
frigates during the Revolutionary War. My mother, while father was at
sea, had helped to nurse the sick people of Baltimore, and had herself
died of the pestilence. Dr. Eccleston, a widower, assumed the care of
Alexander and myself.

Alexander, springing up like Jack's bean-vine, yet growing in brawn
and manliness as his height increased, was my elder by a number of
years. He was much taller than I, yet I was growing too and had hopes
of reaching, by the time I was sixteen, the chalk mark on our wall that
showed Alexander to be five feet, ten inches high.

It was on a dock in Baltimore that this talk took place. The Egyptian
Murad had come to our city from Washington. What his business was
no one could tell. Some said that he was a Turkish diplomat. Others
said that he was a spy for the Barbary rulers. He attended services
at the rector's church, and had told someone that he was a native of
Alexandria, Egypt. He had embraced the Christian religion, he said, and
had been so persecuted by the indignant Moslems that he had left Egypt
for America. He appeared to have plenty of means, and, because there
was such an air of romance about him, the people of Baltimore accepted
him without much questioning, and were, indeed, rather proud that they
had a man of mystery among them.

Our presence on the pier was due to the arrival of Alexander's ship,
_The Three Friends_, from England. Alexander, after begging Dr.
Eccleston in vain to permit him to make a sea voyage, had taken French
leave. When news reached our house that _The Three Friends_ had come
into port, and that Alexander was one of the crew, we hurried down
to greet him. The rector was angry and affectionate. The commodore
was proud of the boy. As for me, I regarded Alexander as Ulysses was
doubtless regarded by the boys of his home town when he returned from
his wanderings.

It was the cargo of _The Three Friends_ that caused the discussion,
and that led the rector to open a closed chapter in his life. The ship
had brought flower-patterned silken gowns, crimson taffetas, pearl
necklaces, and other exquisite articles esteemed by women; and silk
stockings, brilliant scarfs, beaver hats and scarlet cloaks for the
men. The people welcomed these articles. The men had raised tobacco,
caught fish, and gathered furs that they might buy for their families
these rare luxuries from Europe. There were also, in the cargo, chairs
of Russian leather, damask napkins, superb clocks, silver candlesticks
and tankards, and a wealth of treasure of this nature.

Alexander's special gift for the commodore was a pipe. To the rector he
gave a curious-shaped little bottle.

"I found it in a curio shop in London," he said. "The proprietor told
me that it had been found in an Egyptian tomb."

Dr. Eccleston turned pale. Then, recovering himself, he took
the present and held it towards us with what seemed to be real
appreciation. I learned later that his pallor was due to the memories
the queer little bottle awakened.

"Bless me!" he said, "it's a lacrimatory--a tear-bottle! I found many
a one while I was excavating in Egypt. Some say that they are made to
hold the tears of mourners, but scholars will tell you that they are
after all but receptacles for perfume and ointments."

Murad had approached. The sight of the curious bottle, which did not
seem to me to be worth a minute's talk, led him into a discussion of
antiquities he had found in Egypt. The rector's eyes kindled. Here
was a subject that had once been his chief interest. Suddenly he
launched forth into a description of a treasure tomb he had literally
stumbled upon in the desert--a tomb upon which a later tomb had been
built, so that, while the later tomb had been plundered by Arabs, the
earlier tomb had remained a secret until he pried up a stone in the
wall and discovered it. The rector who had attended Oxford, and had
gone forth from college to explore the ruins of countries along the
historic Mediterranean coasts, had made a rough map of the location of
this tomb. He now began to tell of the treasures he had found in the
chamber: heavy gold masks, and breast-plates that, while barbarous in
appearance, yet showed beauty of craftsmanship; bulls' heads wrought in
silver with horns of gold; beautiful jugs and cups, wrought in ivory,
alabaster and amber; mummies whose brows and wrists were encircled with
gems--a hoard of riches priceless both to the scholar and the fortune
hunter.

This description fired my imagination. It also stirred Murad. I saw his
eyes glow and his fingers tremble. I wondered if his vehement demand
that the rector should reveal the location of this cave was created by
his interest in science or by pure lust for riches? As for myself, I
confess that I thought only of the money into which these buried jewels
and trinkets could be turned.

Later, the commodore told us why the rector had been so swift to end
his tale of the buried treasure. After he had discovered the tomb,
somewhere on the African shore of the Mediterranean, he had covered
it up and joined a caravan bound for Tripoli, meaning to organize a
special expedition for further searches. His caravan was attacked by a
tribe of bandits. A blow from a spear knocked him unconscious. When he
regained his senses, his wife and child were gone.

"They were taken as loot," said the commodore. "Women and children are
nothing more than baggage to those Arabs!"

The husband wandered for months through the desert searching for his
family. At last he was stricken with fever. Travelers found him and
placed him aboard a ship bound for England. There he had plunged into
religious work to keep from going mad. Blood-stained garments--proof
that his wife and daughter had been slain--were sent him by an Arabian
sheik. Later he had come to America as a missionary.

He was now rector of Marley Chapel. It is located about nine miles from
Baltimore, near the bridge at Marley Creek, which enters into Curtis
Creek, a tributary of the Patapsco River. This chapel had been built
long before the Revolution. The minister kept his residence within the
town limits of Baltimore because it extended his field of helpfulness.
The journey to the chapel was made on horseback, and whenever he went
to service Alexander and myself followed him on our ponies, through
sun, rain, sleet or snow.

On fair-weather days, the church-yard resembled a race-course. The
ladies, in gay clothes, had come in carriages. The men, mounted on
fine horses and sumptuously arrayed, rode beside them. The carriage
wheels rattled. The negro drivers cracked their whips and shouted. The
gentlemen loudly admonished the slaves. Over such a tumult the church
bell, which was suspended from a tree, rang out to warn the people that
the service was about to begin; then a hush fell over the countryside,
broken only by the stamping and snorting of the mettlesome horses in
the shed, or by the chuckles of the negro boys who tended them.


To bring our story back to the present hour: Alexander had wandered
off from our group with some of his shipmates. Suddenly there was an
uproar. There were surly fellows in the crew and quarrelsome men in the
crowd. Already Alexander had pointed out to me Black Peter, Muldoon,
Swansen, and other sailors whom he avowed were the toughest men he had
ever met.

These were now confronted by our town rowdies. We had a few men among
our citizenship of whom we were heartily ashamed--men who knew how to
fight in ways that surpassed for brutality those methods of warfare
learned on shipboard. Eye-gouging, for instance; getting a man down;
twisting a forefinger in the side-locks of his hair; thrusting, by
means of this hold, a thumb into the victim's eye, thereby threatening
to force the eyeball from the socket if the sufferer did not cry
"King's cruse!" which, I suppose you know, meant "enough!"

The seaman who had been challenged by Steve Dunn, the bully, was Ezra
Wilcox, Alexander's chum. He was a stranger in our town and Alexander
was eager that he should think favorably of the people of Baltimore,
who, everyone knows, are in the main, an open-hearted people. Angered
at having his desire thwarted by the rowdy, Alexander rushed between
Steve and Ezra, and himself took up Ezra's battle. He and the tough
locked arms in a punching and wrestling match, and were soon rolling
over each other on the wharf. Steve, finding that he was getting the
worst of the tussle, reached his hands towards Alexander's side-locks.

"Look out, Alexander," I cried, dancing over the pair in a frenzy,
"he's trying to gouge you, man!"

"Unfair! Unfair! No gouging!" the other sailors shouted, while the rest
of the onlookers stood by with their sense of justice absorbed by their
interest.

Steve's finger was buried in Alexander's shock of hair, and his thumb
crept closer to my brother's eye. I was about to stoop in an attempt to
break the brutal grip when Alexander released his hair by a desperate
jerk that left a wisp between the ruffian's fingers, rolled Steve over,
held him face downward in a grip of iron, and rubbed his nose on the
planks of the dock until blood spurted from it. Then, lifting the
bully up at arm's length, Alexander cast him against the palings with a
force that stunned him. If someone had not grabbed Steve then, he would
have rolled over into the river and few would have mourned him if he
had sank and never bobbed up again.

Steve's friends advanced, pretending great indignation at Alexander's
roughness, but paused as Ezra Wilcox, Black Peter, Muldoon, and Swansen
came forward itching to take up the battle.

"Enough of this," cried the rector, roused from his brooding by the
tussle, "Steve's dug into my boy's eye and paid for it with his own
nose! We'll call the affair quits, and I'll ask you Baltimore folks to
show courtesy to the strangers within your gates."

That afternoon we attended a fair on the chapel grounds. I was eager to
show Alexander that I too had strength and skill, and at the fair, in a
small way, my chance came.

As we approached the grounds we saw that, among other sports, a
gilt-laced hat had been placed on a greased pole, to be won by the man
or boy who climbed the pole and slid down with the hat on his head.
Alexander challenged me to try.

Others had tried and had slid back defeated amidst much laughter. I
gave a running leap, however, and clutched the pole a man's height from
the ground. My fingers and feet managed to find cracks and crevices.
My knees stuck. It may have been that the dirt and sand in which I
had taken the precaution to roll before making the attempt enabled my
arms and legs to overcome the grease, or perhaps it was because those
who had tried first had worn most of it away. From whatever reason, I
continued to climb, rubbing the outer part of my sleeve over the pole
as I advanced, so that more of the grease was removed from my path.
At last, amidst cheers, I reached the peak of the pole, seized the
gilt-laced hat, donned it--although it fell down over my ears--and slid
to the ground in triumph.


SEA LONGINGS

"If you can climb masts as well as you can climb poles," said
Alexander, "there's no doubt that you'll be a fine sailorman!"

"He'll do no mast-climbing!" said Dr. Eccleston. "One sailor in the
family is enough. His climbing will be confined to the steps of a
pulpit. I am training him for the ministry!"

Alexander looked at me quizzically. I winked at him. He and I had
agreed from childhood that ours should be a seafaring life. My brother
had boldly carried out his intention to follow father's example, but
I, seeing that the rector had set his heart upon my adopting a shore
career, had postponed making my declaration. I was immensely fond of
the rector; I did not care to be the means of bringing further sadness
to him, so I bided my time.

Commodore Barney heard the rector rebuke Alexander and saw my wink.
Bless me, behind the minister's back, he winked too. He had told me
that, when the United States began to build her navy, he expected to
obtain a place for me on a frigate. "America's prosperity on the sea
is just beginning," he said. "Don't turn your back on your natural
calling. One voyage in a privateer in one of the wars that are on the
horizon will make your fortune. I'll take you to sea with me. Let the
dominie look elsewhere for his recruits!"

The rector and the commodore were great comrades, but on the subject of
a career for me they never agreed.

Commodore Barney had been a hero to Alexander and myself as far back
as we could remember. He was a part of our lives from the first--an
unofficial second guardian. I have heard him declare that he was on his
way to our house to adopt us when he met the rector coming out with
one of us clinging to each hand. Dr. Eccleston had told him then, the
commodore stated, that a seafaring man was no fit guardian for children.

The commodore was a burly, pink-cheeked, big-hearted man. What a
dandy he was! When on shore he wore a cocked hat, a coat with large
lace cuffs, and a cape cut low to show his neck-stock of fine linen
cambric. His breeches were closely fitted with large buckles. He wore
silk stockings and large buckled shoes. No one who saw him sauntering
along Market Street would take him to be a sailor, although his tongue
betrayed his calling. Nautical terms, strange oaths, shipping topics
were forever on his lips. His clothes spoke of the ballroom, but his
language had the tang of the ship's deck and the salt wind.

He was fond of the ladies. It often amused us to see him dancing
attendance on a maid who minced along in brocade or taffeta, with her
skirts ballooning from the hoops underneath, with bright-colored shoes
peeping out from beneath her skirts, and with an enormous plume in her
big bonnet that waved towards the commodore's cocked hat. The hooped
skirts seemed to be trying to keep her escort at a distance, while he
struggled manfully to pour his words into her ear.

Murad was still hovering around us. Evidently anxious to appease the
commodore, he had begun to talk to him on sea topics. The commodore,
in turn, started to draw out the Egyptian as to opportunities American
shippers might have to sell cargoes of American goods to Mediterranean
cities.

"In Barbary, Egypt and beyond," said Murad, "will lie your country's
chief market. The ports of the Mediterranean are eager for your
goods. Lads like these----" he fixed glowing eyes on Alexander and
myself--"will live to make their fortunes in the Mediterranean."

"I don't know but what you're right," said the commodore, "if someone
will kindly sweep those Barbary buccaneers out of the way. Looks as if
we'll have to build a squadron to do what the navies of Europe have
failed to do through all these centuries. Matters are coming to a head
between our country and the pirate nests of Barbary. I've heard reports
of American ships being captured by ships sent out by the ruler of
Algiers. It may take us a little time to wake up, but in the end we're
going to stop that!"

"That," said Murad suavely, "is nothing new. If you lived in the
Orient, my dear commodore, you would think little of it. It's merely
the way the rulers of the Barbary countries have of notifying your new
country that it's America's duty to pay them toll--ships and jewels
and gold. All of the nations of Europe pay them for protection, and of
course, in justice to themselves and those who pay them tribute, they
cannot exempt America. If I were your President, I would send liberal
presents every year to the princes of Algiers, Tunis, Tripoli and
Morocco. Then, sir, American ships and sailors would have nothing to
fear in the Mediterranean."

"Just so!" said the commodore. He cast a long look at the Egyptian,
glanced around at us to see how we took this proposition, and chewed
his tobacco with fierce energy. Then he exploded:

"I'd blow every one of those pirate nests out of the water before I'd
pay one of those bloody Bashaws a sixpence!"

[Illustration: "I'D BLOW EVERY ONE OF THOSE PIRATE NESTS OUT OF THE
WATER BEFORE I'D PAY ONE OF THOSE BLOODY BASHAWS A SIXPENCE!" SAID THE
COMMODORE.]

"Then!" said Murad, "I'm afraid American commerce will find itself
barred from the Mediterranean! I have no interest in the corsairs. I
was merely trying to point out a way by which your skippers could find
new markets over there without being attacked or imprisoned."

"Well, just belay that advice when you're talking to a man who has
fought for, and still will fight for the honor of his country!" growled
the commodore.

We followed the old sailor.

"That fellow's in this land for no good!" the commodore said to the
rector. "The last time I attended a session of Congress, I saw him
listening to the debates. I reckon he's keeping the rulers of Barbary
informed of what's going on over here. Those fellows want to know how
rich our country is, so that they can tax us all that our finances can
stand. I wouldn't be surprised, either, if Murad's not sending advices
of our sailings, so that those pirates can be on the watch for our
ships!

"Both England and France want to bar us from the trade of the Orient,
and their agents will convey to them there Bashaws any news this
sneaking Murad sends them. Christian convert--my aunt! Once a Moslem
always a Moslem! A trapper of Christians--that's what I think him!"

Murad went on his way and we went ours. I was to have plenty of
occasion to reflect on the commodore's opinion of the Oriental.

Alexander stayed with us for two months after his return from England.
Then he hurriedly shipped on a schooner bound for Boston. Its skipper,
when he returned to Baltimore, brought us a note from my brother. In it
he advised us that he had shipped on board the schooner _Marie_ sailing
from Boston for Cadiz. This was in April, 1784. Over a year passed
without bringing tidings of my brother. I had begun to fear that his
ship had gone down, although the good rector, to comfort me, grumbled
that there was a special Providence that took care of fools.




CHAPTER II

CAPTURED BY CORSAIRS


     "_What does it mean to them that somewhere men are free?_
     _Naked and scourged and starved, they groan in slavery!_"


The rector had encouraged me to browse through his library. He said
that ministers should be well-read men. It was no hardship for me--I
was fond of books. One day, as I was reading "Hakluyt's Voyages," he
rushed into the room. His usually pale face was red and distorted from
excitement.

"David, I've news of your brother!" he cried. "I told you that there
was a Providence that safeguarded scapegraces! He's in Algiers. He's
been captured by pirates! They're holding him in slavery for ransom!"

"Humph," said the commodore, who had followed him into the room, "I
don't call that being guided by a special Providence!"

"Well," the rector said, "they might have killed him, or he might have
died of a fever in that pestilential country. Yes, I think Providence
is watching over him!"

The news had come in a bulky envelope that had been forwarded to Dr.
Eccleston by the State Department.

"Read that," cried the rector, tossing the letter into my lap, "and see
what becomes of lads who leave comfortable homes to sail the ocean!"

He lit his pipe and fell to brooding, while I gleaned from the roughly
scribbled epistle the story of Alexander's capture by Turkish corsairs.

That the Mediterranean Sea was infested by pirates Captain Stephens,
with whom Alexander sailed, well knew. But Cadiz lay outside of the
usual zone of the buccaneers, and the idea of danger from corsairs
scarcely entered the thoughts of the skipper and his men. Yet, on July
25, 1785, while the _Marie_ was passing Cape Saint Vincent, she was
pursued by a rakish lateen-sailed vessel. Despite desperate attempts
to outsail her pursuer, she was soon overtaken. Threatened by fourteen
ugly cannon, she awaited the approach of the stranger.

The _Marie_ was hailed in Spanish. Captain Stephens shouted in reply
the name and destination of his vessel. He had little doubt that he
would be allowed to proceed and was on the point of giving orders to
resume the voyage, when a crowd of seamen in Turkish dress appeared on
the deck of the vessel, which now was found to be an Algerine corsair.

The dark, bearded faces of the Moslems were forbidding enough, but when
the Mussulmans drew near with savage gestures and a wild brandishing of
weapons, the _Marie's_ men knew that either death or slavery awaited
them.

A launch thronged with Moors and Arabs, armed with pistols, scimeters,
pikes and spears, put out from the side of the zebec. They fired
several volleys that came dangerously close to the heads of the
American sailors, and threatened to slaughter the crew if they resisted.

Captain Stephens, when a pistol was held against his breast,
surrendered his ship. He and his crew were transferred to the
corsair, first having been stripped of all their clothes except their
undergarments. They were pricked and prodded until they reached the
forepart of the Algerine ship, where the commander, Rais Ibrahim,
a vicious-looking old Moor, who kept his hand on the pistol that
protruded from his sash as if his fingers itched to fire a bullet into
a Christian's body, repeated the threat of massacre if the captives
disobeyed his orders.

Captain Stephens, who spoke Spanish, went as far as was safe in
protesting against the seizure.

Rais Ibrahim, crying upon Allah to wipe out all Christians, replied
that the ships of Barbary were no longer limited by the Mediterranean
Sea. He declared that Algiers had made a peace with her ancient enemy
Spain and was free now to send her vessels through the Strait into the
Atlantic.

"Have you papers," he sneered, "showing that your country is paying
tribute to the Dey of Algiers? If your government has not purchased
immunity from attack by our corsairs, do not protest to me against your
capture, but rather blame your rulers for neglecting to follow the wise
example of the nations of Europe, who pay my lord the gold that he
demands!"

A Moslem crew was placed aboard the _Marie_, and she was sailed as a
prize into Algiers. There the prisoners found in captivity the crew of
the American ship _Dauphin_, under Captain Richard O'Brien, who, with
his mate, Andrew Montgomery, and five seamen, had been captured by an
Algerine corsair near Lisbon.

To announce to the city that he was approaching with a prize the Moslem
captain fired gun after gun. The Port Admiral came out in a launch to
examine the prize and prisoners so that he might make a report to the
Dey; the people on shore gathered at the wharves to gloat over the new
wealth that had come to the city; the barrooms became crowded with
revelers; everyone except the slaves rejoiced.

The captors were received by their relatives and friends on shore with
cheers and exultation. Estimates of the value of the prisoners and the
ship passed from one to another. The captives were given filthy rags
to cover their nakedness, and were marched through the streets between
rows of jeering infidels. Their destination was the palace of the Dey.
They were driven across the courtyard of the palace, where they entered
a hall. They then were pushed and prodded by their guards up five
flights of stairs, where they went through a narrow, dark entrance into
the Dey's audience room.

He sat, a dark, fat, greasy creature, upon a low bench that was covered
with cushions of embroidered velvet.

He viewed the Americans with great resentment.

"I have sent several times to your nation," he said through his
interpreter, a renegade Englishman, "offering to make peace with
them if they would satisfy my requirements. They have never sent me
a definite reply. Since they have treated me so disdainfully, I will
never make peace with them! As for you, Christian dogs, you shall eat
stones!"

The captives were driven from his presence and marched to the bagnio,
or prison, where they joined six hundred Christian slaves of various
nationalities--poor, broken-spirited fellows, weighed down with chains.

Their names were entered in the prison book; each of them was given a
blanket, a scanty supply of coarse clothing, and a small loaf of black,
sour bread. They slept on the floor, with a thin blanket between them
and the cold stones.

The next day each of them had a chain weighing about forty pounds
placed on him. One end was bound around the waist, and the other end
was fastened by a ring about the ankle. They were then assigned various
tasks for the government. The iron ring on their ankles, they learned,
was the badge of public service. Though it was a cruel weight, it
protected them from abuse by fanatical Moslems.

Some of the captives were employed at rigging and fitting out cruisers,
and in transporting cargoes and other goods about the city. Because of
the narrow streets the articles they moved could be carried only by
means of poles on their shoulders. If they bumped into a citizen they
were loudly cursed and beaten. The Dey was building a new mosque, and
many of the Christians were employed in transporting blocks of stone
from the wharf to the building. Four men were employed to move one
stone, and only the strongest could bear up under such a load. Some of
the captives were sent into the mountains to blast rocks. Under the
direction of Moslem overseers, who cruelly beat them on the slightest
excuse, the prisoners rolled rocks weighing from twenty to forty tons
down the mountain, where they were then hoisted on carts, drawn by
teams of two hundred or more slaves to a wharf two miles distant, where
the stones were placed on scows and carried across the harbor to be
fitted into a breakwater.

The prison, to which they returned after the labors of the day, was
an oblong, hollow square, three stories high. The ground floor was
composed of taverns that were kept by favored slaves who paid a goodly
sum for rent, as well as for the liquor they sold. In this way a few of
the slaves were able to earn enough money to purchase their freedom.
These taverns were so dark that lamps had to be kept burning even by
day. They were filled with Turks, Moors, Arabs and Christians, who
often became drunk and sang and babbled in every language.

The second and third floors were surrounded by galleries that led to
cell-like rooms in which the captives slept. These cells were four
deep to a floor, and hung one over the other like ships' berths. They
swarmed with vermin. The air was too foul to breathe. If any of the
captives rebelled--there was the bastinado! The culprit was thrown
down on his face; his head and hands were tied; an infidel sat on his
shoulders; his legs were held up to present the soles of his feet; and
two infidels delivered from one hundred to five hundred blows.

If a slave committed a very serious offense, he might be beheaded,
impaled, or burnt alive. For murdering a Mohammedan one slave was cast
off the walls of the city upon iron hooks fastened into the wall, where
he lingered in agony for many hours before he perished.

The worst danger the Christians faced was an insidious one--the plague.
In the hot, damp air of Africa a fever arises from decaying animal
substances, which is spread about by swarms of locusts. A person may
be attacked by only a slight fever, but he soon becomes delirious and
too weak to move. In five days his body begins to turn black and then
death comes. It is the black pestilence, and it attacks slaves and
rulers without choice. If it had not been for a hospital maintained by
Spanish priests, most of the captives would have died. As it was, many
Christians perished.


Murad came into our thoughts as we brooded over Alexander's plight. He
was still in Baltimore and still attended the chapel services. Did he
have influence enough, we asked, to obtain my brother's freedom?

The commodore had sworn that the Egyptian went to church only for
the purpose of ingratiating himself with Americans upon whom he had
designs. The rector had retorted that he could not allow himself to
suspect one of his flock of any but pure motives when entering the
house of God. He himself, I felt, disliked the man from the East, but
he concealed it well. Therefore, when Murad came to our door, the
rector invited him into the library and told him briefly what had
happened.

"I am heart-broken over it!" Murad exclaimed, gazing at me with his
great liquid eyes, "and I am helpless because I am no longer a follower
of Mohammed; yet your Government will surely be able to ransom your
brother and his comrades. I do not think their lives will be in danger
if your statesmen appropriate the money promptly. It's shocking, of
course, yet it's quite the usual thing to pay these ransoms. England,
Spain, France--all do it. You see, ever since the days when the Queen
of Sheba brought tribute to King Solomon, the Orientals have been
trained to look for gifts from foreigners who touch their shores."

The rector looked dismayed at this attempt to justify kidnapping by
the Scriptures. "It's time," he said, "for this western world to teach
those ruffians that blackmail is blackmail and that murder is murder!"

He fumbled with the envelope that had contained Alexander's letter. A
slip of paper slid out. He read to us this memorandum, written by my
brother:


_Amount of Ransom demanded by the Dey of Algiers for the Release of
American captives_

     "Crew of ship _Dauphin_:

                                         Algerine Sequins

     Richard O'Brien, captain, ransom demanded    2,000
     Andrew Montgomery, mate                      1,500
     Jacob Tessanoir, French passenger            2,000
     Wm. Paterson, seaman                         1,500
     Philip Sloan                                   725
     Peleg Lorin                                    725
     John Robertson                                 725
     James Hall                                     725"


     "Crew of the Schooner _Marie_:

                                         Algerine Sequins

     Isaac Stephen, captain, ransom demanded      2,000
     Alexander Forsyth, mate                      1,500
     George Smith, seaman                           900
     John Gregory                                   725
     James Hermet                                   725"


"How much is 1,500 Algerine sequins?" I asked Murad.

"A sequin," he explained, "amounts to eight shillings sterling, so that
12,000 shillings will be required for Alexander, and 126,000 shillings
for the entire lot. There must be added to this sum 10 or 20 per cent
of the total as bribes to the Dey's officers, and as commission to
brokers. There are Jewish merchants over there whose chief business it
is to procure the release of captives--for a consideration!

"I know such a merchant in Algiers," Murad went on, "I shall write to
him to interest himself in the captives and to use his influence to see
that they are kindly treated. Perhaps he will be able to reduce the
amount of the ransom. When the money is raised, I shall be at your
service for negotiations."

He bowed himself out. The rector went to the window and stood staring
out after him. "It can't be," I heard him say, "and yet, if the
commodore heard what he said to me, he'd swear the fellow was an agent
for the corsairs!"




CHAPTER III

BARBARY AND THE BUCCANEERS


     "_In lofty strains the bard shall tell_
     _How Truxton fought, how Somers fell,_
     _How gallant Preble's daring host_
     _Triumphed along the Moorish coast,_
     _Forced the proud infidel to treat,_
     _And brought the Crescent to their feet!_"


I was straining like a leashed hound to board a ship and fight for my
brother's freedom, but no way was open to secure the release of the
captives except by diplomacy. As a vent for my feelings in those first
weeks of hot rage, I plunged into a study of the history of the Barbary
pirates. Every outrage done by them was the occasion for an outburst of
vain anger on my part. But was it, after all, vain? Later I had my wish
and shared in a campaign to free three hundred American prisoners from
captivity in Tripoli.

Meanwhile, we lost no time in sending to Alexander as comforting an
answer as we could compose. He had asked that we send his mail to the
care of the English consul who, he wrote, had obtained the consent of
the Dey to send and receive letters for the American captives.

Dr. Eccleston assured Alexander that Mr. Samuel Smith, Maryland's
representative in Congress, had taken an interest in the case and would
urge Congress to procure his speedy release. It was easy to predict a
swift release--but hard, we soon found, to obtain one. I have heard
men joke about the law's delays, but the delays of diplomats are longer
yet. _Alexander's captivity was to endure for years!_

Fortunately for me in my pursuit of knowledge concerning these
buccaneers, I could talk to the rector who had years before traveled
through Mohammedan countries. He poured out to me freely his
recollections of the miserable nations that occupied the African coast
of the Mediterranean.

In books concerning these pirates his library was not lacking. He was
a great bookworm--some of his people whispered that he would trade
the soul of one of his flock for a rare book. He made friends with
skippers, it was said, mainly to have them bring him the latest books
from abroad. By trading with sailors, schoolmasters and preachers, he
had acquired many volumes, among which were many books on travel and
exploration.

Wrecking and piracy had been followed by the inhabitants of the
communities bordering on the Mediterranean since the time of Odysseus.
The rector read to me from Thucydides how Minos of Greece used his
fleet to "put down piracy as far as he was able, in order that his
revenues might come in." From Homer he read the passage, "Do you wander
for trade or at random like pirates over the sea?"

[Illustration: WRECKING AND PIRACY HAD BEEN FOLLOWED BY THE COMMUNITIES
BORDERING ON THE MEDITERRANEAN SINCE THE EARLIEST DAYS.]

In the first half of the last century before Christ, I learned, Cicilia
and Crete were the chief buccaneering nations on the Mediterranean.
Rome had ruined all of her rivals, and therefore made no effort to
guard the seas from corsairs. Refugees from all nations joined the
pirate fleets of Cicilia and Crete. The small communities surrounding
these pirate states were forced to become allies of the pirate rulers.
In addition to seizing ships and goods, the buccaneers became slavers,
attacking small towns and carrying away men, women and girls. The
island of Delos became a clearing-house for this traffic, and in one
day ten thousand slaves were sold. It was said that while the harbor
of Delos was supposed to offer mariners protection from pirates, the
crew of a ship that anchored alongside a merchant vessel might be the
kind that made merry with the merchantman's crew on shore, and, after
learning of her cargo and destination, might follow her out of the
harbor to cut the throats of her crew on the high seas.

Along the southern coast of the Mediterranean, in that part which is
now called Barbary or Northern Africa, where Morocco, Algeria, Tunis
and Tripoli lie, the galleys of Phoenician traders roved in these early
times, exploring the rivers.

Following these traders came Carthaginian warriors who founded colonies
upon this coast. Among these communities was the famous city of
Carthage, that in time brought forth the mighty leader Hannibal.

Then came the Romans, who conquered the Carthaginians and turned
their cities to ruins. Thus the entire territory became Roman African
colonies.

Over six centuries after the birth of Christ, the Saracens began to
invade this region. Their wars continued until by the eighth century
all Roman authority was swept away, and Mohammedan rule was established
throughout the country.


"RED-BEARD"

Born of my reading and thinking about Mediterranean pirates, through
my dreams went a pageant of cruel corsairs and pitiable captives.
There was the corsair chief Uruj Barbarossa, who, hearing on his
native island of Lesbos of the rich galleons that passed through the
Mediterranean, entered the Sea in 1504 with a fleet of robber galleys
and made an alliance with the ruler of Tunis whereby that port became
the center for his thieving. This Barbarossa, or Red-Beard, was a
pirate of the heroic order. On one of his first voyages out of Tunis
he fell in with two galleys belonging to Pope Julius II, bearing rich
merchandise from Genoa. These galleys were far bigger than his two
galleots, yet Red-Beard attacked so fiercely that he overcame the
foremost galley. As the second galley came up without having seen the
outcome of the battle, he arrayed his sailors in the clothes of the
Christian captives and, taking the second galley by surprise, captured
her too. His victories made Europe tremble. Emperor Charles V of Spain
in 1516 sent ten thousand veterans to Barbary to end Red-Beard's
career. Barbarossa's army of fifteen hundred men was surprised by
the Spaniards in crossing a river. Having crossed, he turned back on
hearing the cries of his men and died fighting gallantly in their midst.

Next through my fancy passed Kheyr-ed-din, Red-Beard's brother. Having
slain Red-Beard, the Spaniards could have driven the corsairs out of
Africa, but instead of waging further war, the army returned to Spain.
Kheyr-ed-din then assumed command of the sea rovers, and with a fleet
of one hundred and fifty galleys and brigantines engaged an Allied
Christian fleet of one hundred and forty-six galleons under Admiral
Andrea Doria. The battle amounted only to a skirmish, for Andrea
Doria, although his vessels were manned by sixty thousand men--forces
far greater than that of the infidels--retired when the Moslems had
captured seven of his galleys.


GALLANT DON JOHN

Next in the pageant passed the great corsairs of the battle of Lepanto,
where the Turks, then at the height of their glory, suffered a crushing
defeat at the hands of the brilliant young emperor, Don John of Austria.

The Moslems, before this historic date of October 7, 1571, were
threatening to overwhelm Europe. They desired to make the rich island
of Cyprus one of their stepping-stones to the mainland. Venice, who
owned the island, resisted the claims of the infidels. The Moslems
thereupon threatened to conquer Venice herself. That city's fleet was
too small to cope with the great navy of the Turks. Philip II of Spain,
appealed to by Pope Pius V, went to her aid. The Holy League to protect
Christendom against the infidels was formed.

Don John of Austria, brother of Philip, was chosen to lead the
Christian fleet. He was tall and handsome, and, although only
twenty-four, had distinguished himself in wars against the Moors. He
went to join his navy in a dress of white velvet and cloth of gold.
A crimson scarf floated from his breast. Snow-white plumes adorned
his cap. He looked every inch a hero, and every inch a hero he proved
himself to be.

He found himself at the head of the greatest Christian fleet that had
ever assembled to fight the corsairs. Three hundred vessels and eighty
thousand men sailed forth under his command. The men were incited to
battle by news of the almost unbelievable cruelties the Moslems had
inflicted upon the Venetian garrison of a city in Cyprus which they
had captured. The captain of the Venetian troops, Bragadino, had had
his ears and nose cut off. He was next led around before the Turkish
batteries, crawling on hands and knees, laden with two baskets of
earth. Whenever he passed the quarters of the Turkish general, he was
forced to kiss the ground. Next, with Mustapha, the Moslem general,
looking on, he was flayed alive, and his skin, stuffed with straw, was
then paraded through the town.

Resolved to end forever such atrocities, the Christian fleet sought
that of Ali Pasha, the Turkish admiral. Three hundred galleys, with
one hundred and twenty thousand men, composed the Moslem fleet. They
came on with their decks covered with flags and streamers, while, hid
by this glory of banners, the galley slaves, chained to the oars,
toiled beneath the lash. The two fleets met near the Gulf of Lepanto.
Don John's lookout, from his perch on the main-top, discovered a white
sail. Behind it came sail after sail, until the full strength of the
Turkish navy was in sight.

Don John ran up his signal for battle--a white flag--and went in his
gig from galley to galley, encouraging his men.

"Ready, Sir, and the sooner the better!" they replied to his question
as to their preparedness.

As a last act before battle, Don John unfurled a standard containing
the figure of the Saviour, fell on his knees and prayed for God's
blessing on his cause, then formed his line of battle. The fire
from the huge floating castles that belonged to his fleet created a
panic among the Turks and broke their line. The ships of both sides
came together in a confused mass, so that their decks, almost joined
together, formed a huge platform upon which the Christians and Turks
battled.

Ali Pasha, the Moslem admiral, came alongside of Don John's ship and
was on the point of boarding it when the galley of the Spanish captain
Colonna rammed his vessel, while its crew poured a destroying fire
across the Turkish galley's deck. Ali Pasha was slain. The Ottoman
emblem fluttered down from the mast of the flagship, and the Christian
ensign rose in its place. Heartened by this victory, the other
Christian galleys triumphed over their foes. Such Turkish ships as were
able to escape fled, pursued by the Christians. The Moslems lost over
two hundred ships. Twenty thousand of their men perished. The Christian
fleet lost over seven thousand men. Twelve thousand Christian slaves
were set free from the Turkish galleys.

The Pope who had urged that the Christian fleet be assembled cried in
thanksgiving: "There was a man sent from God, whose name was John."


CERVANTES--WARRIOR AND AUTHOR

Following these great corsairs came cruel, mean-spirited buccaneers,
whom I was glad to dismiss and replace in my imaginings with that
noble captive of the Turkish pirates, Miguel Cervantes, who, after his
release was to write the immortal book, "Don Quixote."

In 1575 Cervantes set sail from Naples for the coast of Spain in
the vessel _El Sol_. His brother, Rodrigo, went with him. They were
returning to Spain, their native land, after serving as soldiers of
fortune abroad. Cervantes was the son of an impoverished nobleman of
Castile. He had commanded a company of soldiers on board the _Marquesa_
at the Battle of Lepanto. In this battle he lost his left arm. He bore
with him a letter of testimonial from Don John, stating that he was as
valiant as he was unlucky, and recommending him to Philip II of Spain.

His ship was almost in sight of the desired haven. The coast of Barbary
which lay on the shore of the Mediterranean opposite from Spain was
feared by the Spaniards because it was infested with pirates, but it
seemed that on this occasion they were to escape attack.

Suddenly, however, three corsair galleys, commanded by Arnaut Memi,
pushed out from the Algerine shore. The _El Sol's_ captain tried his
utmost to escape, but was overtaken. A desperate engagement followed,
in which Cervantes fought with valor, but the pirates were in
overwhelming numbers and the master of the _El Sol_ was at last forced
to strike his colors.

Deli Memi, a renegade Greek, took Cervantes as his captive. Finding
upon his person the letters of recommendation from Don John to the King
of Spain, the pirate thought that a rich and powerful person had become
his prisoner and so set a high ransom price upon him. To make Cervantes
the more anxious to be delivered from captivity, Deli Memi loaded him
with chains and treated him with continued cruelty.

As a matter of fact, Cervantes was poor both in money and the means of
borrowing it. His father, in the second year of his sons' captivity,
managed to raise enough funds to secure the release of one of them, but
Deli Memi, thinking Miguel of more importance than his brother, kept
the future author and set free Rodrigo. Upon this, Cervantes planned to
escape. In a cavern six miles from Algiers a number of fugitive slaves
were hiding. Rodrigo promised to send a Spanish ship to take away these
refugees. The captive Cervantes was to join them. The ship arrived but
some Algerine fisherman gave the alarm and the vessel was obliged to
put out to sea without the fugitives.

The Dey of Algiers, learning of the hiding place from a treacherous
comrade of Cervantes, sent soldiers to seize the escaped slaves. He
was a murderous ruler. Cervantes later in "Don Quixote" gave the Dey
eternal infamy by thus painting one of the characters in his colors:


     "Every day he hanged a slave; impaled one; cut off the ears of
     another; and this upon so little animus, or so entirely without
     cause, that the Turks would own he did it merely for the sake of
     doing it and because it was his nature."


Cervantes took the blame for the entire project on himself. Threatened
with torture and death, he held to his story. The ruler, amazed at his
boldness, departed from his usual custom and purchased Cervantes from
Deli Memi for five hundred crowns.

Again and again the Spaniard tried to escape, always at the risk
of being punished with death. At last, when his master was called
to Constantinople, and was taking Cervantes with him in chains, a
priest obtained his ransom for one hundred pounds, English money, and
Cervantes was free to go home and enter upon the literary career that
brought forth "Don Quixote."

The nations of Europe by persistent effort could have wiped out
piracy along the entire Barbary coast, but instead they continued to
allow their shipping to be preyed upon, paid ransoms meekly, and sent
bribes in the form of presents to the greedy and insolent rulers.
France incited the pirates to prey upon the shipping of Spain; Great
Britain and Holland urged the corsairs to destroy the sea commerce of
France--each great power sought the pirates as an aid to bar their
rivals from the trade of the Mediterranean.

The consuls sent from Europe to these provinces were often seized as
hostages by the pashas, deys and beys to whom they toadied, and if the
fleets of their countries in a spasm of rage at some fresh indignity
attacked the Barbary ports, the consuls were tortured. For instance,
when the French shelled Algiers in 1683, the Vicar Apostolic Jean de
Vacher, acting as consul, was blown to pieces from a cannon's mouth.


DAUNTLESS MASTER NICHOLS

While we who were interested in the captives lamented that the nations
of the world, our country included, were so slow to wipe out these
pirates, my thoughts ran back to the story of an adventure that had
been passed on to me through some family chronicles, of one of our
ancestors who fought against this same race of corsairs. This Forsyth
was an English sailor. He shipped in the _Dolphin_, of London, along
with thirty-six men and two boys, under Master Nichols, a skilful and
experienced skipper.

While in sight of the island of Sardinia, in the Mediterranean Sea
they caught sight of a sail making towards them from the shore. Master
Nichols sent my forbear into the maintop, where he sighted five ships
following the one that had already been discovered. By their appearance
they were taken to be Turkish corsairs.

The _Dolphin_ was armed with nineteen guns and nine carronades, the
latter pieces being used to fire bullets for the purpose of sweeping
the decks when the ship was boarded by enemies. These guns were made
ready to resist an attack, the men were armed with muskets, pistols
and cutlasses, and the assault was awaited with courage. Master
Nichols, upon the poop, waved his sword as confidently as if the battle
was already won. His example did much to hearten the crew for the
ordeal confronting them.

When the foremost ship came within range, Master Nichols ordered
his trumpeter to sound and his gunner to aim and fire. The leading
ship, which had gotten the wind of the _Dolphin_, returned the fire
as fiercely. This ship, which was under the command of a renegade
Englishman named Walshingham who acted as admiral of the Moslem fleet,
came alongside of the _Dolphin_. She had twice as many pieces of
ordnance as the _Dolphin_, and had two hundred and fifty men to match
against the forty men on the English ship's decks. These boarded the
_Dolphin_ on the larboard quarter, and came towards the poop with pikes
and hatchets upraised to slaughter.

However, the _Dolphin's_ crew had a carronade in the captain's cabin,
or round house, and with bullets from this they drove the infidels
back, while their own gunners continued to pour shot into the corsair.
At last the Turkish ship was shot through and through and was in danger
of sinking. Walshingham therefore withdrew his men from the _Dolphin's_
deck and sailed his ship ahead of the English vessel, receiving a final
broadside as he passed.

Following Walshingham's ship, two other large Turkish vessels came to
attack, one on the starboard quarter, and the other on the port. Each
of them had twenty-five cannon and about two hundred and fifty men.
With scimiters, hatchets, pikes and other weapons, they poured on to
the _Dolphin's_ deck where the others had left off. One of the most
daring of the Turks climbed into the maintop of the _Dolphin_ to haul
down the flag, but the steward of the ship, espying him, took aim with
his musket. The Turk dropped dead into the sea, and the flag still
floated.

These boarders were repelled in the same fashion. The _Dolphin's_ crew
fired their small battery with great effect into both ships. They too,
torn and battered, passed on at last to mend their leaks.

After them came two more ships as well-armed and as well-manned as
those that had passed out of the fight. The gunners of the _Dolphin_
disposed of one of these quickly, and she hurried to get out of range.
The crew of the other one, however, approaching on the starboard side,
boarded the _Dolphin_ where the earlier assailants had entered, and
swarmed up the deck crying in the Turkish tongue: "Yield yourselves!
Yield yourselves!" Their leaders also promised that the lives of the
Englishmen would be spared, and their ship and goods delivered back to
them.

"Give no ear to them! Die rather than yield!" cried Captain Nichols.
His men fought on doggedly, plying their ordnance against the ship;
playing upon the boarders with small shot; meeting them in hand-to-hand
encounters.

Suddenly smoke poured out from the hatches of the _Dolphin_. The
infidels, fearing that their own ship would catch fire from the burning
vessel, retreated from the _Dolphin_, and permitted their ship to fall
far astern of her.

The _Dolphin's_ intrepid crew now set to work to quench the flames
and succeeded. A haven was near, into which they put, the enemy ships
having gone ashore in other places to save themselves from wreck.

In these three battles, the _Dolphin_ lost only six men and one boy,
with eight men and one boy hurt. The Moslems lost scores of men. Master
Nichols was wounded twice. The ship arrived safely in the Thames, near
London--a plain merchant ship, manned by ordinary sailors, but as
meritorious of honor as any ship that fought under Nelson or Drake.

I was glad that the story had been passed down to me. I thought of the
two boys in the crew--one killed, the other wounded. I resolved that
when my chance came to help rid the seas of these buccaneers I would
try to fight as nobly.




CHAPTER IV

_THE ROSE OF EGYPT_


The Egyptian Murad had surprised the sailors of Baltimore by purchasing
a schooner that had seen service as a privateer. He had changed its
name from _Sally_ to _The Rose of Egypt_. He announced that he intended
to open trade with Mediterranean cities, and that he would make our
town his headquarters. Enlisting a crew from idle men along the
wharves, he began to load the vessel with goods for which there was a
market in the Orient.

This scheme vastly puzzled the commodore. "I'd like to get to
the bottom of it. It's my private opinion that he deserves a
tar-and-feather party, but I haven't anything to proceed on but strong
suspicions. Every time I go to look in on Congress, blast me, if I
don't run afoul of Murad. He told me, the last time, that a naval
committee desired to question him on trade conditions in the East. Time
must hang heavy on the hands of our representatives--hobnobbing with
such a fellow! They better spend their hours in finding a way to set
our American lads free from Turkish chains. Can't they see what Murad's
up to? I can give a guess that'll turn out to be pretty near the truth.
He's spying on Congress for the rulers of Barbary! If I can only get
proof of it, we'll hang the Egyptian to the _Sally's_ yardarm!"

There came a turn of events that prevented the commodore from making
further inquiry into Murad's affairs--though it did not hinder him
from spreading his opinions. The Administration chose the old sea-dog
as a confidential messenger to bear certain important dispatches to
Commissioner Benjamin Franklin, in Paris. Off he went, promising to
return within six months, and pledging me that when he came back he
would have a serious interview with the rector that would result in my
getting permission to go to sea.

Meanwhile the rector had gone to Virginia to attend a conference of
ministers. He came back aflame with a new purpose, and with lips set in
a thin line that spoke determination.

"These stout-hearted settlers who are flocking out to settle in
Kentucky," he said, "are sheep without shepherds! I have learned that
there is a woeful lack of ministers in the new settlements. I have
determined to spend a year there. My friend, Joshua Littleton, will
occupy my place here until I return. He is a scholarly man. Your
studies will not suffer under him."

I did not like Mr. Littleton. He was a little dried-up man, too much
occupied with studies to pay attention to the welfare of his pupils.
I had a feeling that he regarded me merely as a mechanical thing that
must be made to utter words and rules. You may note Mr. Littleton's
industry by this advertisement that appeared frequently in a local
journal:


     "There is a School in Baltimore, in Market Street, where Mr.
     Joshua Littleton, late of Yale Colledge, teaches Reading, Writing,
     Arithmatick, whole numbers and Fractions, Vulgar and Decimal, The
     Mariner's Art, Plain and Mercator's Way, also Geometry, Surveying,
     the Latin tongue, the Greek and Hebrew Grammars, Ethicks,
     Rhetorick, Logick, Natural Philosophy, and Metaphysicks, all or
     any of them at a reasonable price."


After I had gleaned from him all he knew of the "Mariner's Art" I was
eager to escape.

When the rector rode away on horseback to follow Daniel Boone's trail,
I began to spend along the wharves all the time I could find. Murad
invited me to inspect _The Rose of Egypt_, and soon I was as much at
home on board of her as were the sailors the Egyptian had shipped.

Murad, in his endeavors to make me feel at ease, spun yarns about his
career that were as fascinating as any tale Scheherazade told. One
vividly described how he, having been driven from Alexandria through
persecution, decided to earn his salt by assuming the character of a
dervish--a rôle in which he had to pretend to be both a priest and
a conjurer. He professed to be a devout Mohammedan, and practiced
this holy profession of dervish by giving advice to the sick, and by
selling, for considerable sums of money, small pieces of paper on which
were written sentences in Turkish from the Koran, which he sanctified
by applying them to his shaven and naked crown.

At a place called Trebizond he was informed by the people that their
ruler was dangerously sick and threatened with blindness. He was
ordered by the ministers of the Bashaw to prescribe for him. Through
files of armed soldiers he was conducted into the presence of the sick
monarch. Calling upon the officers to kneel, he displayed all the pomp
and haughtiness that is expected of a dervish. After invoking the
aid of Allah and Mohammed, he inquired under what disease the Bashaw
labored. Finding that he was afflicted with a fever, accompanied by
a violent inflammation of the eyes, Murad made bold to predict that
he would recover both health and sight by the time of the next new
moon. Searching in the pouch containing his medicines, he produced a
white powder which he ordered to be blown into the ruler's eyes, and
directed that a wash of milk and water should then be used. He likewise
recommended that the patient be sweated by the use of warm drinks and
blankets.

He was well rewarded with money and presents.

The next day the caravan he was traveling with departed for Persia, and
Murad, hoping to be nine or ten days' journey from Trebizond by the
time of the next new moon, so that he might be quite out of reach in
case his remedy should harm instead of help the Bashaw, departed with
it.

The caravan was a large one and heavily loaded. A few days later it was
overtaken by a lighter caravan, also from Trebizond. Murad, trembling
in his shoes, heard two men of the newly arrived caravan talking to
each other concerning the marvellous cure of the Bashaw. He learned
that the court and citizens of Trebizond were singing his praises, and
searching for him to heap rewards upon him.

"I was tempted to return," Murad concluded his yarn, "but I began to
wonder what the restored Bashaw would say if some jealous physician
should investigate my remedy and find that _I had blown lime in the
Bashaw's eyes to eat the films of disease away_!"


Before the rector went away, Murad had been a weekly visitor to our
home. He was a well-educated man, and Dr. Eccleston was glad to chat
with one who could discuss the affairs of the universe and delve back
into classical times. The Egyptian had restless eyes. They roved over
every book in the library. Several times it seemed to me that he was
trying to lead the conversation back to the theme of the treasure tomb.
He would ask the rector if he had heard that a certain statue had been
unearthed in Greece, or if he knew that an expedition was on its way
from London to Egypt to delve for traces of a race that flourished
before the Egyptians. The rector's eyes would light up, and he seemed
to be on the point of answering, but always he checked himself and
turned the topic. On one of these occasions his glance darted towards a
locked bookcase that stood in the corner of the library. Murad's glance
followed his.

When the rector went west Murad began to call on Mr. Littleton, who
also received him in the library. His visits stopped suddenly. Then he
announced his date of sailing. I kept putting two and two together, and
one night, as I lay awake thinking about all these strange things, it
suddenly flashed on me that the Egyptian had discovered the location
of the rector's diagram of the treasure chamber, and that one of the
reasons for his sailing was to search for the treasure. I searched in
the corner of the library towards which the rector had glanced while
talking to Murad, and found that the lock to one of the bookcases had
been forced. A leather-bound tome, "Travels in the Holy Land," was
missing.

In an instant I decided to accept Murad's often-urged invitation to
sail with him.

Murad now told me that, as a matter of form, I should have to apply to
his mate, Mr. Bludsoe. He led me down the deck and whispered to the
mate, who eyed me sharply. Then the mate spoke:

"Can you steer?"

"Ay sir," I answered glibly, "I can reef and steer. I can make a
man-rope knot, crown a lanyard, tie a reef-knot, or toss a royal bunt!"

"I fear," he said dryly, "that you are too expert for our forecastle.
The men will be jealous of you. How are you as a cook?"

"I can make coffee and peel potatoes," I said more humbly, "and I know
how to fry potatoes, and bacon, roast beefsteak, and cook oatmeal."

"Get your things and come aboard," he said, "such an all-around fellow
is spoiling on shore."

I was by no means a greenhorn aboard a schooner. No boy could grow up
in a seaport town without becoming familiar with ships, and be sure
that I was no exception. The wharf and river had been my play region
since earliest childhood. There were a number of yawls and cutters
which the boys of the town were allowed to use when their owners did
not require them, and in these we held mimic warfare, playing at
buccaneers, or pretending that we were Yankee sailors fighting off
English press-gangs. Sometimes a kindly skipper would allow us to
explore his vessel, and there was always an old sailor of deck or dock
willing to show a lad how to tie a rope or haul in a sail. Thus I
became familiar with sailing ships from stem to stern and from the main
royal truck to the keel.




CHAPTER V

MY FIRST VOYAGE


     "_Now, my brave boys, comes the best of the fun._
     _All hands to make sail, going large is the song._
     _From under two reefs in our topsails we lie,_
     _Like a cloud in the air, in an instant must fly._
     _There's topsails, topgallant sails, and staysails too._
     _There is stu'nsails and skysails, star gazers so high,_
     _By the sound of one pipe everything it must fly._
     _Now, my brave boys, comes the best of the fun,_
     _About ship and reef topsails in one!_
     _All hands up aloft when the helm goes down,_
     _Lower way topsails when the manyards goes round._
     _Chase up and lie out and take two reefs in one._
     _In a moment of time all this work must be done._
     _Man your headbraces, your halyards and all,_
     _And hoist away topsails when it's 'let go and haul!_'"

     (Ditty sung in early days aboard Salem ships.)


One night in May, Murad sent word to me that we were to sail at four
o'clock the next morning. I went to bed as usual, but before the hall
clock struck three I was out of my window with my luggage and on my way
to the ship. When I went aboard I found that all of the confusion of
spare rigging, rope, sails, hawsers, oakum and merchandise that I had
noted on the deck the day before, had been cleared away.

All of the crew were Baltimore men. Some of them were honest,
goodhearted fellows. Others were ruffians. I recognized Steve Dunn and
some of his gang among the crew. Baltimore had evidently become too
hot to hold such rascals.

Samuel Childs, who had sailed under Commodore Barney, took me under his
wing, although he swore that I should have been keelhauled for going to
sea without asking the advice of the rector or the commodore.

"But," I protested, "they are both out of the city, and if they knew
the reason I had for going, they would approve."

"I don't like to see the skipper taking such an interest in you,"
Samuel said with a shake of his head. "Mr. Bludsoe, the mate, is a fine
man. You can trust him as you would a father. But these Orientals--I
question their motives. True, Murad was a skipper in the Sultan's navy,
but he's hiding something. He's more than a mere captain. We older men
can take care of ourselves, but you've had no experience with men.
You'd better stick close to me aboard ship, and closer still when we
land!"

Samuel was our chantie man, and good service he did in stimulating
us to work the windlass in hauling up the anchors--sometimes buried
so deep in the mud at the sea's bottom that it needed the liveliest
sort of chantie to inspire our hearts and strengthen our sinews. The
secret of the swift way in which we heaved up the anchor, cleared away
lashings, pumped the ship, unreeved the running gear, and mastheaded
the topsails lay in the fact that the chantie caused us to work in
unison. No matter how tired we were, our spirits rose and the blood
coursed as we worked to the chantie Samuel roared forth:


     "Way, haul away;
       Oh, haul away, my Rosey.
     Way, haul away;
       O, haul away, Joe!"


There being a fine breeze from the shore, we made sail at the wharf and
headed out to sea. As the wind increased, all sail was made, topmast
stun'sail booms were run out, stun'sails spread, anchors secured, and
all movable things on deck were made fast. When we hove the log it was
seen that we were doing better than ten knot, a rate of speed that made
Murad well satisfied with his ship.

We were mustered aft--watches were to be chosen. There were ten able
seamen, three ordinary seamen, and one boy--myself. The men were
divided between the port and starboard watches. Mr. Bludsoe, the
chief officer, was in command of the port watch. Mr. French, the
second officer, was in charge of the starboard watch. When we were not
attending to the sails, we were kept busy scraping, painting, tarring
and holy-stoning.

At four bells--six o'clock--the port watch came on deck to relieve the
starboard. The starboard watch then went below for supper, and were
allowed to remain off duty until eight o'clock--eight bells. The port
watch was then relieved by them, and its members were allowed till
midnight for resting. Short "dog" watches were provided for so that the
port and starboard watch had eight hours off instead of four hours'
duty every other night.

When the watch was changed, the man at the wheel was relieved, the
lookout man climbed to the topgallant forecastle to relieve the weary
lookout who in loneliness had faced exposure to the weather for four
hours, while the rest of the men smoked their pipes in as comfortable
places as they could find, and swapped yarns.

The cry that caused the most excitement aboard ship was "All hands
shorten sail." This meant "going aloft." The order had no terrors for
me, thanks to my early experiences on schooners in the Chesapeake Bay.

It is not much of a job to go up the masts in calm weather. Indeed,
on a calm moonlight night, a place on the crosstrees was my favorite
spot. One seems to be then on the top of a mountain looking out on
an enchanted land. But when the seas are heavy it is a different
matter. The force of the gale that leads the mate to bawl his command
to shorten sail pins you against the mast. The rain lashes you, and
sometimes there is sleet to prick you like swords' points. The man
above you may kick you with his heel as he comes to grips with his
task. The officers on deck and the boatswain on the yardarm have
their eyes fixed on you and the rest of the watch. The canvas must be
mastered and every man must do his part. Overhead the spars and yards
pitch and reel. The yard you stand on seems almost as unstable as the
waves that leap up to engulf you.

On the first day out, two of our men had a fist-fight due to trouble
that arose between them while they were aloft. Wesley Burroughs had
stopped in the shrouds as if he meant to go no farther. Giles Lake, who
was behind him, thought to find favor with Bludsoe, the boatswain, and
began to prick Wesley's legs with his knife.

The result, however, was not what he expected. Wesley continued his
ascent, but when the task was done and the two had reached the deck, he
went at Giles, who was much larger, like a thunderbolt. Under the eyes
of the boatswain, who seemed to think Lake deserved the punishment, he
knocked his tormentor down, seized his own sheath knife, and returned
prick for prick.

An ordeal I feared was that of initiation by King Neptune. I was
relieved when Samuel told me that Neptune's visit came only when a
ship crossed the equator, and that _The Rose of Egypt_ would not cross
that imaginary line. He satisfied my curiosity by describing his own
experience.

After breakfast on the morning the ship crossed the equator, he was
ordered to prepare for shaving. The crew blindfolded him, led him on
deck, and bound him in a chair.

A voice said:

"Neptune has just come over the bow to inquire if anyone here dares to
cross his dominions without being properly initiated. Samuel Childs,
prepare to be shaved by the King of the Seas, a ceremony that will make
you a true child of the ocean!"

His shirt had been stripped off his back. A speaking-trumpet was held
to his ear, through which a voice thundered:

"Are you, O landsman, prepared to become a true salt?"

"I am!" Samuel said boldly.

"Apply the brush!"

When the bandage was removed from the victim's eyes, someone stood
before him dressed like Neptune, with gray hair and beard and long
white robes. In his right hand he held a trident; in his left hand the
speaking-trumpet. In a sailor's hand was a paint brush that had been
dipped in tar. With this thin tar Samuel was lathered, the tar being
later removed with fat and oakum.

Neptune then said: "You may now become an able seaman. You may rise to
boatswain and to captain. If you are killed or drowned, you will be
turned into a sea-horse, and will be my subject. You may now eat salt
pork, mush, and weevilly bread. Do it without grumbling. I now depart!"

Samuel was again blindfolded. When the bandage was removed, Neptune had
disappeared. It was told Samuel that he had dashed over the bow into
his sea-chariot.

"I know better now," Samuel explained to me. "Neptune was impersonated
by Jim Thorn, our oldest sailor. His long beard was made of unraveled
rope and yarn. He perched under the bow and climbed aboard by the
chains."

My first turn at the wheel, with Samuel standing by, was a curious
experience. Told to steer southwest, I found that I swung the wheel
too far, and that the direction was south southwest. When I tried to
swing back to southwest I went too far in the other direction, and was
steering southwest by west. In a few hours, however, I had mastered
the trick. I loved to steer. It enabled me to escape the dirty work
of tarring, painting and cleaning. Yet I never took the helm without
thinking of how my father had been killed at the wheel of the _Hyder
Ally_.

Whistling aboard ship was a custom disliked by the old sailors. They
entertained a superstition that he who whistled was "whistling for the
wind." On one of my first nights at sea, feeling lonesome, I puckered
my lips and began to blow a tune. Along came Samuel. He paused beside
my berth.

"My boy," said he, "there are only two kinds of people who whistle. One
is a boatswain. The other is a fool. You are not a boatswain."

He passed on. I never whistled again aboard ship.

When we were within the vicinity of the capes, there came a calm spell
in which our schooner barely moved. While we were fretting at this
snail's pace, a frigate, enjoying a wind that had not come our way,
overhauled us and hove to across our bows, displaying the British flag.

"Have your protections ready, lads," the mate said, squinting across
the water, "that ship is looking for men to impress!"

A boat put out from the frigate's side and came towards us.

"On board the cutter, there," called our mate, "what do you want with
us?"

"On board the schooner," came the reply, "we're looking for deserters
from the British navy. Let drop your ladder!"

We obeyed. A spruce, slender, important, yet surprisingly youthful
lieutenant came over the side.

"Compliments of Captain Van Dyke, of His Majesty's ship _Elizabeth_,"
he said to the skipper and the mate, "we desire to inspect your crew."

"It's a high-handed proceeding," said Murad, his black eyes snapping,
"but since we are only slightly armed, I suppose we must submit. My
men are all American citizens. Each has proof of it." He turned to the
mate, "Mr. Bludsoe, have the men lined up."

The lieutenant passed down the line, scrutinizing the protection
papers and asking searching questions. I was the last one, and as
my turn came, I began to turn cold with dread, for, fearing that I
would be kept from shipping, I had neglected to get a protection
paper. Putting on as bold a front as I could muster, I looked up at
the lieutenant. He had friendly blue eyes--he was not at all like the
dreadful impressment officer of my imagination.

"Please sir," I said, "I shipped without taking the trouble to get a
protection. I'm an American to the backbone, though. I was born in
Baltimore and my father was killed fighting the British during the
war of Independence. He was on the _Hyder Ally_ when she captured the
English ship, the _General Monk_. I don't want you to take me because I
have a brother who is a prisoner in Algiers, and I expect to join the
new American navy and go to fight for his release!"

He laughed. "If we robbed you of a father, I think it's due you to be
allowed to go your own way. I should say that your brother requires
your aid more than we do, so I'll take your word for it that you're a
Yankee. Better not go to sea again without a protection paper. I happen
to be a particularly tender-hearted officer."

He went down the side.

Samuel Childs gave me a slap on the back that took my breath away.

"Youngster," he said, "that's the first time I've seen a British
officer pass by an American without papers. Blast them, if they would
give their men better pay and stop flogging them through the fleet for
offences hardly worth one lash, they wouldn't have to be taking us to
fill the places of their deserters!"

It was a grand though often terrifying sight to see the ship in a
storm flying beneath leaden clouds. With the main topsail and fore
topmast staysail close reefed; with the masts tipping over as if they
were going to plunge their tops into the sea; with spray showering upon
us; with mountainous waves following us as if they would topple their
full weight over our stern; it was a sight to make one both marvel and
tremble.

In such a storm we lost James Murray, an ordinary seamen, well-liked by
all.

We were in a heavy sea. The clouds were so low that they enveloped our
mastheads. Tremendous waves beat against our bow, so that our plunging
stem was like a knife cutting a way through them. All hands were called
to shorten sail as the wind increased into a gale. The men who were
light of weight went out along the yardarms, while the heavier men
remained closer to the mast. The upper mizzen topsail was being furled
when a sudden gust of wind blew the sail out of their grasp.

Murray, who was one of the outermost men, was thrown off the yard into
the sea. As the great waves tossed him up, we saw him struggling to
swim, handicapped as he was by his heavy oil-skins. A boat was cleared
away and volunteers were called for to endeavor to rescue Murray. I
stood forth with the rest of the crew--I saw no one hold back--but a
crew of our strongest men was chosen, and all we could do was to stand
on a yard and watch the progress of the little boat. The seas poured
into her. We could see two of her men baling desperately. At last we
lost sight of her in the mists. An hour later, when we were worrying
greatly over the fate not only of Murray, but also of the boat's crew,
the mist cleared and showed our location to the men struggling out
there in the furious ocean. They gradually made their way towards us
and were pulled on deck exhausted. They said that they had caught one
glimpse of Murray, but as they pulled desperately to reach him the mist
had drifted between him and them--a mist that was to him as a shroud.




CHAPTER VI

MUTINY


     "_'Twas on a Black Baller I first served my time_,
       Yo ho, blow the man down!
     _And on that Black Baller I wasted my prime_,
       Oh, give me some time to blow the man down!"


Murad had been forced to ship some of the toughest rascals in Baltimore
in order to complete his crew. They were men who had gotten into
trouble through acts of violence ashore, and were forced to take to
sea. They, too, had heard rumors that Murad was a spy in the employ of
the Barbary powers, but it did not seem to bother them. I am of the
opinion that they meant to seize the vessel before it had sailed out of
sight of the Atlantic coast.

If such was their plan, Mr. Bludsoe, the mate, was their chief
obstacle. He was a fearless, muscular man, and a belaying-pin in his
hand was a deadly weapon. Even in a plain fist fight he was equal to
two of them. He was not overfond of the Egyptian, yet he was the sort
of person who stuck to a task once he had entered on it.

He suspected Steve Dunn and his crowd of an intention to murder the
officers and seize the ship, and told the skipper of his suspicions.
Murad gave orders that we should be mustered before him. We were under
the guns of an American frigate when the orders were issued, and the
crew obeyed promptly.

"You men have far more weapons on your persons than is necessary,"
the Egyptian said smoothly. "In the interest of good fellowship, and
to keep you from slashing and shooting at each other, I desire you to
leave your knives and pistols in my care. Mr. Bludsoe, you will search
the men's berths and bags and bring to me for safe-keeping any weapons
you find!"

I saw sullen glances exchanged by Steve Dunn, Mulligan and other
members of the crew.

"We ain't none of us planning any trouble among ourselves!" said Steve.
"We don't know when this here vessel is going to be boarded by pirates
and we want our weapons handy!"

"Handy they shall be!" said Murad, still smiling. "It would be too bad
to start ill-feeling between you and me by your disobeying this, my
first request. It would bode ill for our voyage. I was once an admiral
in the Sultan's navy. I know how to make men obey orders. I should hate
to have to ask the captain of yonder frigate to send a crew aboard
to help me make my crew obey. Throw down your knives. You have them
sharpened to a point that makes an honest man shiver. My good fellows,
show me what a good crew I have by obeying me--at once!"

His voice rang on the last two words. The men dropped their dirks on
the deck. There was a motion of Steve's hand towards the inside of his
shirt as the skipper stooped to pick up one of the knives, but Murad
seemed to have eyes in the back of his head.

"Look, Mr. Bludsoe," he said, straightening himself swiftly, "Steve
Dunn has a second knife that he wants to give up!"

He pulled a pistol from his pocket. "Give us the hidden knives too,
men! This pistol might go off if I am kept waiting too long!"

Mr. Bludsoe had returned with an armful of weapons. He deposited them
at the skipper's back and went down the line, feeling for dirks. He
found two. Ending his search, he ordered the men to go forward.

In spite of these precautions, the men continued to grow rebellious.
The man who relieved Samuel Childs at the wheel disobeyed orders. When
Mr. Bludsoe scolded him he gave impudence.

After a scuffle, in which several of the loyal members of the crew,
including Samuel Childs and myself, went to Mr. Bludsoe's assistance,
this man, Bryan by name, was put in irons.

"Holystone the decks!" the next order given after this episode, brought
no response from seven members of the crew. They outnumbered the
officers and the loyal sailors. If we had not taken possession of their
arms, we should have been in a bad way. The men came forward towards
the Egyptian.

"Release Bryan if you want us to work!" Steve called.

"I am the master of this ship!" said Murad calmly, "Bryan is in irons
for disobedience. Others of the crew who refuse to obey orders will be
treated as mutineers. You know the punishment for that! Holystone the
decks!"

They folded their arms and stood glowering at the skipper.

"I shall starve them into submission!" Murad said to the mate.

Two days passed. The men stayed forward. The officers made no attempt
to give them orders. Fortunately, the weather remained calm, and the
few of us who were loyal were sufficient to handle the sails. If a
tempest came, we would be in a serious situation.

"They will attack like starved wolves tonight!" said Mr. Bludsoe to
Burke, Ross and myself, "I shall give each of you a pistol. Your own
lives are at stake. Shoot any man of them who comes aft."

The first man who came aft, however, we did not shoot.

I was the first to catch sight of his figure stealing away from the
forecastle. I fear that my voice trembled when I cried:

"Halt! Throw up your hands!"

"It's Reynolds," he said, "Take me to the skipper. I want to throw
myself on his mercy. Intercede for me, lad. I've had my fill of that
gang yonder!"

The captain and mate had joined me. "It's the first break in their
ranks," he said, "and I'll take advantage of the chance to show them
that they can still surrender without being strung up."

He turned to me.

"Give Reynolds biscuits and coffee! He will take the wheel after that,
and if he fails us there we'll----"

He whirled his hand around his neck and then pointed to a yardarm in a
way that emphasized his meaning far more than words could have done.

The surrender of Reynolds led us to hope that others were on the verge
of yielding. We questioned Reynolds as he ate ravenously the food we
brought him. He was whole-heartedly aiding us now, because he knew that
if the mutineers triumphed it would go hard with him.

He said that if we could show the men that we were powerful enough to
conquer Steve Dunn and Mulligan, the ringleaders, the others would be
glad to go back to work.

"It's those two who're to blame for us not yielding sooner," he
explained. "We had planned twelve hours ago to come out and throw
ourselves on the skipper's mercy, but Mulligan knocked me down when
I suggested it. He thought that he had me cowed, and that I would be
afraid to make any further attempt. He stationed me as a guard at the
forecastle scuttle tonight, while he planned with the others just how
they would attack you. If they could get rid of the skipper and the
mate, they thought it would be easy to bring the others over to their
side. I expect they'll be crawling out very soon to make the attempt."

"Captain," said Mr. Bludsoe, "I think I can end this. There are lads in
that forecastle whom I don't want to see hung for mutiny. They resent
our trying to starve them into submission, and I'm afraid the longer
they go without food, the more desperate they'll become. May I promise
them that if they come forth peacefully and go to work you will take no
steps to enforce the laws against them?"

Murad had been plainly worried by the rebellion. We were out of the
track of American frigates, and we still had a long voyage before us.
If a storm came, the few loyal men would find themselves overtaxed in
managing the vessel, and while they were endeavoring to save the ship,
the mutineers would have an opportunity to do murder.

I could not help wondering, too, whether the Egyptian was not fearful
as to the effect the mutiny would have on his treasure hunt, for the
more I studied him, the deeper became my conviction that he had secured
possession of the rector's secret, and, under the pretext of going
on a trading voyage, was off on a solitary treasure quest. One of my
duties was to keep the cabin clean and tidy, and when opportunity
offered I had poked in chests and cubby-holes to see if I could find
the rector's map of the treasure country. My hurried searches had
failed thus far.

Thoughts kindred to mine must have been running through Murad's mind,
for he consented to Mr. Bludsoe's proposal.

"But I warn you against entering the forecastle!" he said, "Better
talk to them at a distance. Keep them well covered with your pistols.
They've found weapons!"

The mate went forward. I had conceived a strong admiration for him,
and, on an impulse I followed his shadowy figure as it crept along the
starboard side, past the galley, towards the forecastle hatchway. Ross
and Burke, not to be outdone, strung along behind us.

Mr. Bludsoe had reached the forecastle hatch without meeting a person.
I expected to hear him yell his message down the hatchway, which was
open, but instead I saw his black figure leap into the yellow glare
that came up from the forecastle lantern. He had leaped down into the
room.

I crept up to the scuttle, and leaned down the hatchway, cutlass in
hand. I was determined to fight in the mate's defence if necessary,
though I knew that my cutlass, with only a youth's arm behind it, was
a poor weapon against desperate men, even if they were only armed with
dirks.

The men had been standing in the center of the forecastle, and seemed
to have been on the verge of rushing forth to attack us. Reynold's
desertion had not been noted by them, and they had evidently thought
that the person leaping into the room was their sentinel. The mate's
spring, therefore, took them by surprise. They glanced uncertainly up
the ladder, saw the flash of my cutlass, and thought that our entire
force was back of Mr. Bludsoe. It was a reasonable conclusion, for who
would have dreamed that the mate would have done so bold a thing.

Knives flashed. "Here's one of them," Steve cried, "thought he'd
starved the strength out of us, I reckon. We'll show him!"

Bludsoe put his back against the ladder and leveled his pistols at the
most menacing mutineers.

"Men," he said, "I can kill four of you before you down me. There
are others waiting to take care of the rest. Listen--I haven't come
down here to shoot--I'm trying to end this row and save you from the
gallows. Some of you have never been in trouble before. Some of you are
married men. It's no use trying to budge the skipper. You won't get a
bite to eat until you start to work. If you hold out another twelve
hours the chances are some frigate will see our signals and take you to
where you'll get short shrift. Come now, throw down your knives and----"

A heavy boot, viciously aimed, knocked me aside. Its owner jumped
across my body and leapt towards the scuttle.

I saw the huge bulk of Mulligan pass me. He had been out to reconnoiter
and we had passed him in the darkness.

"Look out! Mulligan's behind you!" I cried.

A shot was fired.

I crept in despair towards the hatchway. I was unable to interpret
from the sounds and curses that issued from the forecastle what had
happened, and feared that I should see Mr. Bludsoe trampled upon by
those he had tried to rescue from their own folly. Yet, as I raised my
head to peer down, I heard his voice ring out:

"There's no need for anyone else to pay the price Mulligan has paid.
Down with your weapons!"

Dirks and pistols clattered to the deck. Some of the points of the
knives stuck into the timber. I looked at these shivering blades and
thanked Providence that they had found lodging there instead of in the
mate's breast.

Out they came, sullen but subdued. Mr. Bludsoe drove them aft with his
pistol points.

"Thank you, lad," he said, as he passed me, "I owe my life to you!"

I peered down into the forecastle. Under the smoky lamp lay Mulligan--a
huge, motionless mass. Blood flowed from his temple.

The wind had died; the sun was hidden in haze; the sky darkened; the
barometer fell. "We'll be in the midst of a tempest soon," Samuel
Childs whispered to me, "if the rebels had held out they might have had
the ship at their mercy."

"Call all hands to shorten sail," the skipper said calmly to Mr.
Bludsoe.

The ship was made snug; the sails were furled; the spars, water casks,
and boats were lashed; the hatches were battened down.

Seeing that the men were thoroughly cowed, the skipper passed the word
to the cook to serve them with breakfast. From the galley came the
sound of pots and pans. The peace meal was ready.




CHAPTER VII

BETRAYED


It grew warmer as we approached Gibraltar. Flying fish arose from the
water and shot over the surface like silver arrows. Porpoises frolicked
around us. Flocks of sea-gulls followed us as we passed the southern
coast of Europe. Through the Azores we sailed until we came in sight of
the red cliffs of St. Vincent, on the Portugal coast. Then we entered
the Straits of Gibraltar and caught our first sight of the mountainous
African coast.

I had better note here that three continents form the shores of the
Mediterranean Sea--Europe, Asia and Africa. The entrance to this sea
from the Atlantic is guarded by the Pillars of Hercules, formed by
Gibraltar on the European shore and "the Mount of God" on the African
side. These pillars, it interested me to discover, were thought by the
ancients to have been left standing by Hercules as monuments to his
might when he tore asunder the continents. It will be remembered that
along the sea these monuments of nature guarded, civilization had been
cradled. Art, architecture, law, poetry, drama, and religion had come
into being on these coasts. The treasure tomb that now nightly filled
my dreams had doubtless been laid in these early days.

And now, as the events of my story have so much to do with this North
African shore, let us have a clear understanding of its cities and
people. The coast is called Barbary, because the race that inhabits it
are named Berbers. They belong to the same stock as the Anglo-Saxons
and many of them have fair complexions, rosy cheeks and light hair.
They are fanatical Mohammedans, and despise us because we are
Christians. The Moors and Arabs, who are descended from the Mussulman
warriors who captured Africa centuries ago, abound here too, and are
the people with whom our quarrel lies.

Barbary is sometimes called Little Africa. It extends from Egypt to
the Atlantic Ocean and from the Mediterranean Sea back to the Sahara
desert. Just over the way from Gibraltar lies Morocco. It is a little
city with white walls surrounded by great hills. Most of the cities of
Barbary are similarly situated between mountains and water.

Next to the province of Morocco, lies Algeria, and farther on is
Tripoli, the farthest boundary of which adjoins Egypt.

Algeria, I learned, is five times as large as Pennsylvania. Algiers,
one of the largest cities on the coast, is its capital. Walls of
stone have been built across the harbor as fortifications. Algiers
resembles an amphitheatre. Its streets rise on terraces. The streets
are narrow; bazaars are everywhere. These are roofed over with matting
and lined with booths in which all sorts of goods are sold. The
booths are nothing more or less than holes in the walls in which the
dealer sits, while the customers stand out in the street and buy. One
bazaar is given over to the shoemakers; another bazaar is devoted to
jewelry; still another is set apart for the sale of perfumery. Tailors,
saddlers, rug sellers--each trade has a separate bazaar. Here are shops
selling carpets and rugs, and there is a café in which Turkish coffee,
as sweet as molasses, may be sipped. Yonder is the stand of an Arab
selling sweetmeats; beyond him a man in a long gown fries meat and
sells it hot from the fire.

There are solid-looking public buildings, and a great mosque that
covers several acres. A turbaned priest from the minaret which rises
far above the roofs of the shops and homes calls out the hour of
prayer, and the Mohammedans kneel.

A picturesque crowd pours through the dark, narrow streets. Arabs in
long gowns; brown Arabs from the desert; Berbers from their country
villages; Jewish girls in plain long robes of bright colors--pink, red,
green, and yellow; Moorish women in veils; Berber girls with their rosy
faces exposed; boys with shaved heads, wearing gowns and skull caps;
holy men and beggars innumerable. Some of these veiled Mohammedan wives
are only thirteen years old.

We anchored off Sale, a harbor of Morocco. I heard our skipper tell
the mate that he proposed to go ashore and inquire into the chances of
disposing of part of our cargo to advantage.

No sooner had he left the ship than I, whose task it was to keep
Murad's quarters tidy, began to make a thorough search of his
belongings. I was seeking that which only my suspicions told me
existed--the map showing the location of the treasure.

There was a sea chest in the cabin which Murad kept locked. In another
room of the ship, however, I had found a similar chest. The key to this
one I had taken, hoping that it would open the Egyptian's strong-box.
In this experiment I was fortunate--the key turned in the lock as if it
were made to fit it, and the lid was loosened.

I found in the top of the chest the volume that had been stolen from
the rector's library. The trail was hot. There was, however, no map
between its pages. Deeper into the chest I plunged. At the bottom I
pried up a false bottom and found a paper. It seemed to be a copy
instead of an original. I concluded that if this was the diagram of the
treasure site, Murad had taken ashore the original, and had left this
one aboard in case he lost the first one.

The map was simple enough. It showed a section of the southern coast of
the Mediterranean. The towns Tripoli and Derne were indicated. Between
them was a village lettered Tokra. In the neighborhood of this spot
were queer markings, which were explained by writing at the bottom of
the map. When I tried to decipher this I found that it was in Arabic.
The original was doubtless in English. Murad, in copying, had doubtless
changed the English to Arabic to keep the secret from prying eyes.

Towards midnight--while I was on watch--I heard a noise on the water
from the direction of shore. It sounded like rowing, and yet it was
too indistinct a sound for me to make certain. I decided that Murad
had given up his idea of spending the night ashore and was returning.
However, I asked Mr. Bludsoe to listen.

"Oars!" he said, his ear cocked over the landward side.

He listened again. "There are three boats at least!" he whispered, "it
looks like an attack. Pass the word for all hands!"

By this time both watches were on deck. Pistols and cutlasses were
passed out. We lined up along the bulwarks, peering out.

The mate stood near me. I heard him thinking aloud. "So this is the
way our precious skipper protects us from corsairs?" he muttered, "He
goes ashore and an attack follows. Looks queer. Wonder what slaves are
worth in Morocco? Maybe he's planning to sell a double cargo--goods and
men!"

We could hear the sounds plainly now. The splash of the oars struck
with a chill more than one of us, but we gripped our weapons and made
up our minds to sell our lives dearly.

Mr. Bludsoe had been sweeping the sea with a night glass. "They are
near us, men--four boats, swarming with cutthroats!"

He peered over the rail and shouted:

"On board the boats! This is an American schooner with whom you have no
business. Come nearer at your peril!"

Still the boats came on. The steady beat of the oars tightened our
nerves almost to the snapping point.

The mate shouted a second warning. It was not heeded. "It's either
their lives or ours," he said to us, "Pick out your marks. Fire!"

Our cannon belched forth flame. Shrieks and curses took the place of
the splash of oars. We saw two boatloads of men pouring into the water,
snatching at the remnants of their cutters. On board the remaining two
boats was havoc and confusion. We saw these boats at last turn stern
and make for the shore.

One of the boats managed to escape our fire and came up against the
schooner on the farther side. This boat was not in the group we had
first sighted, and in the excitement of the battle, it stole up on us
without discovery. I chanced to turn in its direction just in time to
see a dark head appear above the bulwarks. I caught up a cutlass and
ran with a cry to cleave the fellow's head. He ducked, and my blade cut
into the rail. The mate, with more presence of mind, had caught up a
heavy shot from beside the Long Tom and called upon others to follow
his example. Down into the boat they dropped the balls, smashing heads
and smashing boat. Before her crew could get a foothold on our chains,
she filled with water and sank. In this fashion we met and overcame our
greatest danger.

"Lower away a boat!" said Mr. Bludsoe, "we can't let those wretches out
there drown without making some attempt at rescue!"

We rowed out and brought in three men and a lad.

Mr. Bludsoe questioned them by the light of a lantern. We gathered
around in a circle. The boy could talk Spanish, which the mate also
could speak. They were dark, half-naked creatures, with something of
the appearance of sleek rats as the water dripped from their glossy,
matted hair.

Two of the Moslems were sullen and made no responses to the mate's
query. One, however, was explosive. His rage was directed not against
us, but against some one of his own party.

"Who is responsible for this attack? Answer truly, unless you want to
swung from yonder yardarm!" Mr. Bludsoe threatened.

The fiery individual, with frantic gestures, poured a response intended
for our mate into the lad's ears.

"The captain of your ship betrayed you," said the interpreter with
rolling eyes and flashing teeth. "He betrayed us too. He said that it
would be easy for us to capture you because he had assured you that you
were free from attack. He led us to believe that the guns had been
spiked and the weapons thrown overboard."

Mr. Bludsoe turned to the crew. "Murad made such an attempt. I found
him fooling with the cannon and scared him off. I suspected him after
that, and gave him no chance. He's sold us in advance to the pirates of
Morocco. They'll be putting out in pursuit of us as soon as they learn
of the failure!"

He had scarcely spoken when two lateen sails could be seen moving out
from shore. We were becalmed, and capture seemed certain.

"We can't beat off their warships! Man the longboat!" Mr. Bludsoe
ordered, "We'll have to trust to yonder mist to hide us. We ought to be
able to reach the Spanish coast if it holds!"

The moon had been clouded by a fog. We could feel the haze settling
upon us. The change seemed to precede a storm.

With the war-ships nearly upon us, we rowed off into the haze, taking
the prisoners with us.

When we were a league from the shore, we heard a gun fired. I thought
that the corsairs, who by this time had doubtless found that we had
deserted the ship, were cruising in search of us and had fired the gun
in our direction. No balls struck the water near us, however, and we
rowed on desperately.

Mr. Bludsoe questioned Mustapha. "It is the hurricane signal on
shore," the youth explained. "It means that the barometer has fallen
tremendously, and that a storm's on the way. You need have no fear of
pursuit. The ships that came out to attack you will seek shelter now.
We shall all sink if you do not make for the beach!"

Mr. Bludsoe ordered us to row towards the Moroccan shore, in a
direction that would take us clear of the harbor. Heavy gusts of wind
beat down upon us and floods of rain poured over our straining muscles.
The wind became a gale and threatened to come with greater intensity.
Furious waves leaped up on every side to swallow our boat. We gave up
hope of reaching the shore, and rowed on expecting every uncertain
stroke of our oars to be the last.

Suddenly Mr. Bludsoe's voice rang out calm and strong through the
tempest. "There's a ship ahead. It must be one of those that came out
to attack us. Yet it's better to take our chances aboard her than to
stay in this sea. Pull towards her!"

The ship loomed up larger than we had expected. Her sails were cut
differently from those of the corsairs. Against the gray of the storm
we caught sight of the American flag.

"By all that's holy," the mate cried, "she's a Yankee frigate!"

The frigate, whose commander was shifting her to the shelter of the
harbor, caught sight of us as we plunged towards her bow. Willing hands
dipped down to help us climb over her side.

The frigate's name was _George Washington_. Her commander, Captain
William Bainbridge, was bearing to the Dey of Algiers certain presents.
With great joy I learned that peace had been made between Algiers and
the United States, and that Alexander and his comrades were on their
way home. Of these things I shall have more to tell later. We were not
yet out of danger. The hurricane now seemed to be concentrated over
us. The wind's force must have been over a hundred miles an hour. The
tremendous gusts struck the heavy vessel with the force of battering
rams and drove her forward as if she were a cockle-shell. We could see
the shore looming up.

"Rocks!" someone shouted. We were within a hundred yards of them when a
miracle happened. The wind shifted its fury. It now blew in a twisting
fashion from the shore. Our ship turned with it. On another side of the
harbor there was a beach of yielding sand. Beating behind us with the
same terrific force, the hurricane sent the nose of the frigate into
the sand in a way that held her more firmly than a hundred anchors.

Here we stayed without listing. The first part of the cyclone lasted
about two hours. There was a lull and we thought the storm was over. It
returned an hour later, however, in all of its fury, and we expected
every moment to be torn from our haven and hurled across the harbor to
destruction--a fate that we could now see had overtaken many vessels,
for the shore was lined with wrecks. Whistling, roaring, devastating,
it whirled over us, lashing the waves until they dashed with savage
force over our decks. Our only comfort was that the onslaughts
gradually decreased in strength, and we saw the barometer rise rapidly
from its lowest point.

On shore, storehouses, castles, and residences were unroofed or
demolished entirely.

Spars, masts, and parts of wharves floated on top of the waves. I
shuddered as my eyes rested on a dead body floating amidst a mass of
wreckage. It seemed providential that we were not floating corpses.

A wreck lay near us. She had overturned and the water was washing
across her deck. She had a familiar look. Her stern was towards us. I
caught a glimpse of her name and read _The Rose of Egypt_.

Murad had played upon a youth's imagination to lead him into a trap.
The rascal's gift at story-telling had been drawn upon to add me to
those he hoped to lead into captivity that he might obtain ransoms. He
also, no doubt, had it in his mind to revenge himself on the commodore
by persecuting one of whom the sailor was fond. As my knowledge of
Barbary grew, I saw that it was quite possible for Murad to act as a
spy for one or all of these Barbary rulers. America was a new country.
The corsair princes desired information as to how rich she was; what
they had to fear from her navy, etc. It came out later that secret
discussions in Congress upon the subject of the Barbary powers were
promptly reported to the Dey of Algiers, so that when our envoys came
to negotiate with him he threw their secrets into their faces. But, be
that as it may, adventures were crowding upon me so swiftly that I felt
disposed to forgive Murad for the sake of the thrills he had sent my
way.




CHAPTER VIII

AN AMERICAN FRIGATE BECOMES A CORSAIR'S CATTLESHIP


When I felt the deck of the _George Washington_ beneath my feet, I felt
a different thrill than that which had run through me when I stepped
aboard _The Rose of Egypt_. I was a navy lad now, and my own quest for
treasure, that had absorbed all of my attentions, dwindled before the
fact that it was now my duty to consider the interests of my country
more than my own selfish aims.

Moreover I was to meet men, and find adventures, that made my treasure
hunt for the time being a secondary interest. I intended before I
quitted the Barbary coast to make the search; meanwhile I was content
to take what experiences navy life brought me, awaiting my opportunity
to enter the desert in search of the riches. The Egyptian, I had
reason to believe, had been killed in the hurricane. The secret of the
treasure was safe with me. Time would unfold my opportunity.

As for those who are following this chronicle, let us hope that the
thrilling naval activities these pages will now mirror will be more
absorbing even than the personal experiences I have told about; yet if
any wonder as to the result of my quest for treasure, let me encourage
them by saying that it was the historic events I am now about to relate
that placed me at last in a position to reach the spot where the
jewels and trinkets described by the rector were buried.

My good friend Samuel Childs found an old comrade on board the _George
Washington_--one Reuben James. The two had been shipmates in the
merchant service. Reuben, though now scarcely more than a boy, was a
veteran sailor. He had gone to sea at the age of thirteen, had sailed
around the world, and had every sort of experience that comes to a
seaman. All of us became members of the frigate's crew, and Samuel and
I were chosen for Reuben's watch, so that the three of us had many a
chance to talk things over.

From Reuben I drew forth an account of the release of Alexander and the
other American captives. It was not until Samuel told him that I was a
brother to one of the captives that he displayed interest in me; after
he had discovered this fact, however, he went out of his way to be kind
to me.


ALEXANDER FREE

"Well do I remember Alexander Forsyth," Reuben said, "and I'll swear
that when I met him at Marseilles, where he was awaiting a passage home
after his release from bloody Algiers, he was the nearest thing to a
dead man that I have ever seen alive! He looked like a skeleton with a
beating heart! Mark my word, he'll never go to sea again! What can you
expect--after years of cruelty, starvation, sickness, chain-dragging!"

"You see," Reuben said in excuse for our statesmen, "our Congressmen
had other important things to worry about: Indian uprisings, trouble
at sea with England and France; a union to form between the bickering
commonwealths, finances to raise for running the government, and what
not? A few sailors imprisoned in an out-of-the-way part of the world
were apt to be forgotten!"

The fresh captures by the pirates that brought about the settlement
had, I was informed, happened in this manner:

When the Portuguese warships withdrew from guarding the Straits of
Gibraltar, the Algerine cruisers entered the Atlantic in four ships and
swooped down on unsuspecting American vessels. Eleven of our ships were
captured by corsairs. Their crews were taken as slaves to Algiers, and,
added to those already held in captivity, increased the number to one
hundred and fifteen.

The Swedish consul warned Colonel Humphreys, our minister to Portugal,
that Bassara, a Jew slave-broker at Algiers, through whom the United
States was trying to procure the release of the captives, was out
of favor with the Dey, and that to succeed the business should be
transferred to the Jew Bacri. This was done, and an agreement soon
followed.

Captain O'Brien was sent to Lisbon to get from Colonel Humphreys the
money the United States promised to pay. Humphreys was forced to send
O'Brien to London to borrow the funds, but, on account of the unsettled
condition of European politics, O'Brien failed in his mission. The
Dey, vexed at the delay, threatened to abandon the treaty. Upon this
a frigate was offered by the American envoys as an inducement to hold
to the treaty, while Bacri himself advanced the necessary gold. The
prisoners were then released and sent in Bacri's ship _Fortune_ to
Marseilles, where the American consul, Stephen Cathalan, Jr., secured a
passage home for them in the Swedish ship _Jupiter_.

What I had learned of the insolence of the Barbary rulers had come to
me thus far only by hearsay. I was now to see an example of it with my
own eyes.

While I was thus gathering the details of Alexander's tardy release,
the _George Washington_ was proceeding from Morocco to Algiers, Captain
Bainbridge having been ordered by our government to deliver presents to
the Algerine prince. Before leaving Morocco, Captain Bainbridge, who
had heard the story of the assault upon us with amazement and anger,
demanded of the Dey of Morocco that he surrender to him the Egyptian,
Murad, for the action of our government.

Word came back that a search had been made for Murad but that no person
such as we described could be found in the city. Punishment for those
who had attacked us was also requested, but the oily monarch protested
that his officers could find no citizens who had attempted such a raid.
Baffled, we went on our way.

I looked over the rail towards the frowning castles of Algiers in huge
disgust. Yet I was curious to see the town in which Alexander had been
enslaved, and Captain Bainbridge, knowing of my relationship to one of
the released Americans, provided a way that I might enter the palace
as one of his attendants when he went with Consul O'Brien to pay his
supposed respects to the Dey.

By listening to the English renegade who acted as interpreter between
our officers and the ruler, I gathered that the Dey was in trouble with
his overlord, the Sultan of Turkey, because he had made peace with
France while Turkey, then allied with England, was making war on the
French forces in Egypt.

To appease the wrath of the Sultan, the Dey had decided to send to that
monarch at Constantinople an ambassador bearing valuable gifts. With
amazing cheek, he now asked Consul O'Brien to lend him the frigate
_George Washington_ for the purpose of bearing the envoy and his train.
Captain Bainbridge blushed. "It is impossible for an American naval
officer to carry out such a mission," I heard him cry.

"Your ship is anchored under my batteries. My gunner will sink her if
you refuse!" the Dey said with a scowl.

"That is no work for an American ship," Captain Bainbridge said.

"Aren't Americans my slaves? Don't they pay tribute to me?" the Dey
demanded. "I now command you to carry my embassy!"

I felt like rushing forward and choking the creature, and I saw from
Captain Bainbridge's look that it was all that he could do to restrain
himself from drawing his sword and plunging it into the fat stomach of
the beast.

Consul O'Brien came forth with soothing words. He advised Bainbridge to
obey the ruler, and Bainbridge, because of the superior authority of
the consul, was forced to consent.

"Shade of Washington!" he exclaimed, when he returned aboard ship,
"behold thy sword hung on a slave to serve a pirate! I never thought to
find a corner of this world where an American would stoop to baseness.
History shall tell how the United States first volunteered a _ship of
war_, equipped, as a _carrier_ for a pirate. It is written. Nothing but
blood can blot the impression out."

We heard that he wrote thus to the Navy Department:


     "I hope I may never again be sent to Algiers with tribute, unless
     I be authorized to deliver it from the mouth of the cannon."


THE VOYAGE TO CONSTANTINOPLE

When the ambassador to Constantinople came on board, his suite and
following were enough to make angels laugh. There were one hundred
Moslems attending him. Many of the officers brought their wives and
children. In addition there were four horses, twenty-five horned
cattle, four lions, four tigers, four antelopes, and twelve parrots.
The money and regalia loaded as presents for the Sultan were valued at
a million dollars.

When our frigate reached the two forts that commanded the entrance to
Constantinople, Captain Bainbridge decided that he would save the time
that would be spent in entering the port in the usual formal way. We
approached the anchorage as if we meant to come to a stop. We clewed up
our courses, let go the topsails, and seemed to be complying with the
rules of the port. Then our commander ordered that a salute be fired,
but, when the guns of the fort replied, he ordered sail to be made
under cover of the smoke. By this trick, we passed by the guns under
the smoke screen, and were inside the harbor and beyond range before
the Turks realized it.

An officer rowed out to ask to what country our ship belonged.

"The United States," answered our commander.

The officer returned to shore. A half-hour later he again rowed out to
inform Captain Bainbridge that the Sultan had never heard of the United
States, and desired to know more about it. Our captain replied that he
came from the new world discovered by Columbus. Again the officer went
ashore and returned, bringing this time a lamb and a bunch of flowers,
as tokens of peace and welcome.

The admiral of the Turkish fleet, Capudan Pasha, took the _George
Washington_ under his protection. The Sultan gave Captain Bainbridge a
certificate which entitled him to special protection in any part of the
Turkish empire.

With the ambassadors from the Dey of Algiers matters went very
differently. When the messenger was received on board Capudan Pasha's
ship, the admiral snatched from the envoy's hand the Dey's letter, and
then, in a great rage, spat and stamped upon it. He was then told to
inform his master that the admiral meant to spit and trample upon him
when the two met. The Sultan was equally harsh. He told the ambassador
that he would force the Dey to declare war against France within sixty
days, and threatened to punish the ruler if he did not send to him an
immense sum of money. The presents of tigers and other animals were
viewed by him with supreme contempt.

The sight of the American flag, flown for the first time in this
section of the world, created a sensation.

It was said that, seeing the stars in the American flag, the Sultan
decided that since there was represented on his flag one of the
heavenly bodies, his country and ours must have the same religion. The
foreign consuls at Constantinople welcomed Captain Bainbridge and he in
turn entertained them. At one dinner he had on the table food and drink
from all quarters of the globe, representing places at which he had
stopped--Europe, Asia, Africa, and America, and men from each of these
countries sat at his table.

We returned to Algiers with a disgruntled ambassador. The Sultan, while
he treated our commander with great courtesy, found fault with the Dey
of Algiers' gifts and threatened to punish both him and his envoy if
more valuable presents were not forthcoming. All of which delighted us
hugely.

When we drew near to Algiers on our return passage, we wondered what
further indignities would be offered. Captain Bainbridge, having
learned of the Sultan's message to the Dey, knew that a ship would be
required to take a second Algerine mission to Constantinople. Fearing
that the Dey might try to use the _George Washington_ again for this
purpose, and suspecting too that to obtain the money the Sultan
demanded the Algerine prince might attempt to enslave the crew of
the _George Washington_ and hold them for ransom, Captain Bainbridge
decided that he would anchor his ship out of range of the Dey's guns.
Threats and persuasion were used by the Orientals to induce us to come
into the harbor, but Captain Bainbridge squared his jaw and kept the
ship where we had first anchored.

Consul O'Brien now rowed out and told our commander that the Dey wanted
to have a talk with him. The captain, armed with his certificate of
protection from the Sultan, went ashore. The Dey, maddened over the
result of his intercourse with the Sultan, and further enraged at
Captain Bainbridge's cleverness in avoiding his snares, threatened
him with torture and slavery, and seemed about to call upon his armed
janizaries to seize the officer. At this moment Captain Bainbridge
produced the certificate. The tyrant, seeing his master's signature
upon a document that expressed good will to the American, fawned and
apologized.




CHAPTER IX

LIFE ABOARD _OLD IRONSIDES_


     "_And now to thee, O Captain,_
       _Most earnestly I pray,_
     _That they may never bury me_
       _In church or cloister gray;_
     _But on the windy sea-beach,_
       _At the ending of the land,_
     _All on the surfy sea-beach,_
       _Deep down into the sand._

     _For there will come the sailors,_
       _Their voices I shall hear,_
     _And at casting of the anchor_
       _The yo-ho loud and clear;_
     _And at hauling of the anchor_
       _The yo-ho and the cheer,--_
     _Farewell, my love, for to the bay_
       _I never more may steer._"
                          --W. ALLINGHAM.


"I hear it reported," Samuel Childs remarked one night on watch, "that
Captain Edward Preble is coming out in command of the _Constitution_.
Looks like he'll have charge of the Mediterranean fleet. A hard man. A
hot temper. He's as rough as the New Hampshire rocks where he was born.
I doubt whether I'd want to serve under him!"

"The harder they come, the better I like them," said Reuben James. "A
hard man means a hard fighter. I understand Stephen Decatur's coming
out too. There's an officer for you! Hope I have a chance to serve
under both!"

Samuel Child's idea of Captain Preble's disposition was held aboard all
of our ships. Yet Preble changed this adverse comment to enthusiastic
admiration. It happened in this way:

As his frigate was passing at night through the Straits of Gibraltar
he met a strange ship and hailed her. The vessel made no reply, but
manoeuvred to get into an advantageous position for firing.

"I hail you for the last time!" Preble shouted. "If you don't answer,
I'll fire a shot into you."

"If you do, I'll return a broadside!" came from the strange ship.

"I should like to catch you at that! I now hail for an answer. What
ship is that?" Captain Preble cried.

"His Britannic Majesty's eighty-four gun ship-of-the-line _Donegal_!
Sir Richard Strachan. Send a boat on board!"

Preble shouted back:

"This is the United States' forty-four gun ship _Constitution_, Captain
Edward Preble, and I'll be d--d if I send a boat on board any ship!
Blow your matches, boys!"

No broadside was fired. Captain Preble now shouted to the officer
that he doubted the truth of his statement and would stay alongside
until the morning revealed the identity of the stranger. A boat now
approached, bearing a message from the strange ship's commander. He
explained that she was the thirty-two gun British frigate _Maidstone_,
and that, taken by surprise, he had resorted to strategy in order to
get his men to their stations before the _Constitution_ fired.

Samuel Childs had his chance to serve under this terrible Captain
Preble, and so, for that matter, had all of us. My first meeting with
the captain was far from being one that promised comfort. To explain
why, I had better note here that the clothing supplies of the _George
Washington_ had been depleted, consequently there were several pieces
of my dress that were not in accord with the regulation uniform.
Captain Preble's gaze chanced to rest on me. Then, with an outburst
that nearly frightened me out of my wits, he asked me how I dare
present myself before him in such attire.

"If I catch you out of uniform again," he said, "out of the service
you'll go!"

I darted out of his sight, resolving to alter my dress at once,
but a lieutenant hailed me and gave me a message to deliver to the
_Constellation_. He then ordered the coxswain to man the running boat.
Off we rowed. The _Constellation_ lay with her bow towards us. Instead
of waiting for the Jacob's ladder to be thrown to me, I stood in the
bow of the running boat waiting for it to be lifted to the crest
of a sea. The next roller lifted our cockle shell high in the air,
approaching the level of the ship's deck. I took advantage of this
rise and vaulted from our boat. We were in a rough sea, and, instead
of landing on the bulwark, as I had aimed to do, I was hurled by the
next roller head-first across the vessel's side. With the velocity of a
butting goat, my head rammed a group of three officers who had chosen
that particular spot for a chat. Two of them were tossed left and
right; the third one was floored. I arose with abject apologies. Who
should I see squirming and cursing before me but Captain Preble? I felt
my blood turn to ice.

To my terrified imagination a flogging seemed to be the least
punishment I could expect. Not only had I knocked him down, but here
was I appearing before him in the clothes he had ordered changed. The
other officers, crimson and purple with wrath, helped the Captain to
his feet. It appeared that while I had been waiting for the letter, he
had gone forth in his gig to inspect the very ship I was bound for.

"Ha!" he exclaimed when he had recovered his breath, "the same lad! The
same uniform!"

Then suddenly he looked at his frowning companions and burst into
laughter. "Why," he exclaimed, "just when we were talking about our
enemy's guns, he came over the side like a cannon ball! I thought the
gunners of Tripoli were bombarding us!"

When the laughter ended I had a chance to deliver the letter and to
explain that the lieutenant had pressed me into service before I had an
opportunity to change my garb.

He nodded. "The irregularity of your clothes we will overlook just
now," he said, "but your irregular way of coming aboard, and the
headlong way in which you approach your superiors, and intrude upon
their conferences, is a matter that warrants your being turned over
to the master-at-arms. However, you scamp, we'll forgive all of your
offences for the laugh you have given us! I hope if I ever call on you
to board an enemy's ship you'll go over her side with the same speed!"

The crew was divided into three sets. The men in the first set were
called topmen; their duty was to climb the masts and to take in
or furl, reef or let out the sails. This group of topmen were in
turn subdivided, according to the masts of the ship. Thus we had
fore-topmen, main-topmen and mizzen-topmen.

The second set of men attended to the sails from the deck. It was their
task to handle the lowest sails, and to set and take in the jibs, lower
studding sails and spanker; they also coiled the ropes of the running
gear. These men too were grouped according to masts.

The third set of men were called scavengers. These did the dirty work
of the ship, gathering the refuse from all quarters of the vessel and
casting it overboard.

I, on account of my youth, was assigned to none of these sets, but to
the boys' division. There were a dozen of us lads on board, and a merry
set of scamps we were. We were assigned to serve the officers, and
because of this we managed to overhear and pass to each other a good
deal of information concerning the operations of the ship that was not
intended for us to know. Some of us became favorites with the officers
we served, and when we got into mischief and were threatened with
punishment, our officers often shielded us.

In addition to the sailors and boys, the ship had over a score of
marines on her muster roll. They were the policemen of the ship. In
battle their place was in the rigging, where they picked off the enemy
crew with their muskets. The marines filled a peculiar position, in
that they were called upon to uphold the authority of the officers, and
therefore could not be on intimate terms with the sailors--in fact, the
officers discouraged familiarity between the soldiers and sailors.

As for food, we were the envy of our British cousins. Our menu was:
Sunday, a pound and a half of beef and half a pint of rice; Monday, a
pound of pork, half a pint of peas and four ounces of cheese; Tuesday,
a pound and a half of beef, and a pound of potatoes; Wednesday, half
a pint of rice, two ounces of butter, and six ounces of molasses;
Thursday, a pound of pork and half a pint of peas; Friday, a pound of
potatoes, a pound of salt fish, and two ounces of butter or one gill of
oil; Saturday, a pound of pork, half a pint of peas, and four ounces of
cheese. In addition, one pound of bread and half a pint of spirits, or
one quart of beer, were served every day.

Sundays were usually holidays. After muster on the spar deck, we would
have church service, and then the rest of the day was ours to spend as
we pleased. We wore our best uniforms, but we could never tell from one
Sunday to another just what kind of dress we were to appear in. The
captain had a way of ordering us to wear one day blue jackets and white
trousers, and on the next Sunday to change to blue jackets and blue
trousers. When he wanted us to look particularly smart he would command
that we wear in addition our scarlet vests. When, on top of all this,
we donned our shiny black hats, we felt fine indeed.

In fair weather we slept in hammocks, swung on the berth deck. We were
trained to roll up and stow our hammocks swiftly, so that when a call
to action sounded, our beds disappeared from sight in the bulwark
nettings as if by magic. These hammocks, in battle, were placed against
the bulwarks as shields to prevent splinters from hitting us when the
vessel was hit.

Our ship kept a merit roll, upon which were entered the names of every
member of the crew. If a man did his work well, he was given a good
standing on this roll; the sheet, on the other hand, also showed who
were the lazy and inefficient members of the crew. The system of
handling men was modeled after that of the older navies, where each man
of the ship's company was assigned a certain duty.

When a sailor died, we sewed up our mate's body in his hammock and
placed it on a grating in a bow port. Then an officer read the burial
service. At the words, "We commit the body of our brother to the deep,"
we raised the grating and allowed the body to drop into the sea. There
would be a heavy splash--then a deep silence rested on both the water
and the ship for several minutes.

Our greatest enjoyment came from our band, which we had formed out of
members of the crew who had more or less talent for music. I wondered
afterwards how our efforts would have sounded in competition with a
professional band of musicians that in later years played aboard one of
our sister ships. These musicians had found their way into the American
navy in a strange manner. They had enlisted on board a French warship
under the condition that they would not be called on to fight, but
were to be stowed away in the cable tier until "the clouds blew over."
It was also stipulated that they were not to be flogged--a custom of
which many captains were far too fond. The French ship upon which they
played was captured by a Portuguese cruiser. They were permitted by
the Portuguese to enlist in a British vessel, and when the latter was
captured by an American frigate, the band was enrolled in our navy.


EVERY-DAY HAZARDS

In sailing from a cold to a warm climate, we were unknowingly weakening
our rigging, which had been fitted in cold weather. The masts were
subject to expansion and contraction by heat and cold, and so was
our cordage. When we entered the Mediterranean our shrouds and stays
slackened under the hot sun. The ship was in this condition when we
were caught in a heavy gale. The ocean had grown rough. We were at
dinner when a tremendous wave broke over our bow. It poured down the
open hatchway, swept from the galley all the food that was on the
table, washed our table clean of eatables, and poured through all of
the apartments on the berth deck in a terrifying flood. The huge waves
beating upon our ship from the outside, the tossing of the vessel, and
the sloshing water we had shipped racked the vessel so that it seemed
that it must founder. We were a white-faced group, for Davy Jones'
locker seemed to be yawning for us below, but we kept our upper lips
stiff and sprang nimbly to obey orders. The officers commanded the
crew to man the chain pumps and cut holes in the berth deck to permit
the water to pour into the hold, and in this way we emerged from our
dangerous situation.

Another peril, however, beset us on deck. One of our lieutenants,
watching the rigging, discovered that it had become so slack that the
masts and bowsprit were in danger of being carried away. He summoned
all available hands to help tighten the ropes. We managed at last to
secure purchases on every other shroud, and to sway them all together,
which restored the firmness.

One night we had shown to us what a terrifying experience it is to have
a fire break out aboard ship. As we were climbing into our hammocks a
shower of sparks flew up from a corner of the cockpit.

The captain ordered the drum to beat to quarters, and soon the crew
was assembled under good control. Fire buckets filled with water were
standing on the quarterdeck. We ran for them and poured them over the
flames. All hands emptied buckets on the flames until the fire had been
quenched.

If the fire had occurred a few hours later, when we were asleep, it
might have gathered enough headway to sweep the ship. We learned later
that a lighted candle had fallen from a beam on the deck below and had
set fire to some cloths. The steward had tried to smother the fire
with sheets, but all the cloths had then caught fire. We did not fully
realize our danger until it was pointed out to us that the room in
which the fire had started was next to the powder magazine, and that
the bulkhead between the two compartments had been scorched.

When decks were cleared for action, you may well believe that my heart
was in my mouth. The ship's company was running here and there as
busy as ants--and apparently as confused. The boatswain and his mates
saw to the rigging and sails. The carpenter and his crew prepared
shot-plugs and mauls and strove to protect the pumps against injury;
the lieutenants went from deck to deck, supervising the work. The
boys who were the powder monkeys rushed up and down at their tasks of
providing the first rounds for the guns; pistols and cutlasses were
distributed. Rammers, sponges, powderhorns, matches and train tackles
were placed beside every cannon. The hatches were closed, so that no
man might desert his post and hide below. The gun lashings were cast
adrift. The marines were drawn up in rank and file. These occupations,
fortunately, left us little time to think of home and loved ones, and
by the time the decks were cleared, why, the cannon were thundering and
the missiles were striking about us.

Bathing and boat racing were popular sports with us; yet, in the case
of the first pastime, we had to be very careful on account of blue
sharks.

It was a matter for wonderment with us that, while the blue shark has
been known time and again to attack white men, he seldom bothered
a colored person. We had sailors aboard who had sailed in Oriental
waters, where there are thousands of sharks. These men agreed in their
story that the natives could swim and dive without fear of them, but
if a white man ventured to bathe in the same place the sharks would be
after him in a short time. We learned from these yarn-spinners that the
pearl-divers of Ceylon stay down under water for several minutes at a
time while they gather into bags the shells that contain pearls, and
yet are seldom attacked by sharks. This may have been, though, because
while they were under water their comrades above shouted and sang to
scare the sharks away. Sometimes natives whose skins were of a light
color would dye their bodies black, while other divers would carry in
their girdles spikes made of ironwood, which they used to poke out the
eyes of sharks that came near.

These stories about sharks were enough to make us enter the water
warily, and to borrow the custom of the pearl divers in making a loud
noise when we bathed. An experience was awaiting us, however, that
brought our danger home to us more than all the warnings that could be
uttered.

Jim Hodges, perhaps the most expert swimmer among us, was fond of
boasting that he could outswim a shark. One day, when there was a
calm sea, he started to swim from the side of our vessel to another
frigate that was anchored close by. We who were on duty watched, over
the ship's side, his progress. Suddenly a gray fin showed above the
turquoise water, about one hundred yards from him, but moving rapidly
in his direction. We shouted and pointed in the direction of his
danger. He heard us, realized his peril, and turned instantly towards
our ship. The shark at once changed its direction so that the swimmer
and the fish seemed to be following two sides of a triangle that would
meet at the apex--this point being the bow of our vessel. We watched
in breathless suspense while Hodges moved towards us, swimming with
amazing coolness and nerve. The shark gained steadily. We had lowered
a rope at the point nearest to the swimmer, and we could see him
measuring the distance with an anxious look. Those of us who managed to
obtain firearms began to shoot at the shark, but at last it had drawn
so near to the swimmer that there was danger of hitting him with our
bullets. We ceased firing and waited. At last Hodges, with a desperate
spurt, reached the rope. As soon as we felt his tug at it we began
hauling him in. If he had seized the rope a second later, it would have
been too late. The teeth of the shark flashed in the swirl at the end
of the rope. If Hodges had not lifted his feet into the air, one of
them would have been snapped off.




CHAPTER X

A CONNECTICUT YANKEE IN THE COURT OF TUNIS


At Malta, whom should I bump into but commodore Barney! His business in
France having been completed, he had taken the notion to see southern
Europe before returning to the United States.

He was amazed to see me in the uniform of the United States, yet
proud, too, that I had taken matters into my own hands and gone to
sea willy-nilly. He told me that the rector had been sent back to his
Baltimore charge by his bishop, and that Alexander had begun business
in Baltimore as a ship chandler. My story of Murad's treachery brought
forth a series of explosions, which, however, were cut short by the
arrival of the commodore's friend Captain William Eaton, a military
officer from the United States, who had stopped in Malta on his way to
take the office of American envoy at the court of Tunis.

The conversation turned towards Captain Eaton's mission to Tunis. "I
understand that I have an abominable ruler to deal with," he said, "I
shall be doing well if I do nothing more than keep Yankee ships and
sailors out of his hands!"

"I wish I were going with you, sir," I said impulsively.

"Can you write? Are you handy at clerical work?" he asked.

"Is he?" burst out the commodore, "why, the boy was brought up to be a
minister. When I knew him a quill or a book was never out of his hands!"

"I have authority from Washington to employ a secretary," said the
captain. "The lad can accompany me in that office."

Delighted, I turned away to make the necessary arrangements. "If you
haven't the knack of fighting as well as of writing, I advise you to
decline the position," Captain Eaton called after me, "for I expect to
battle with the Bey of Tunis from the hour I arrive!"

"That," I returned, "is the reason I said I'd like to go along! You
look like a fighter, sir!"

Captain Eaton was pleased instead of offended at my boldness. The story
of his career, as I heard it later from the commodore, proved that the
captain was a fighter in deeds as well as in looks. He had a broad
forehead, with deep-set eyes and heavy eyebrows. His nose was that of a
fighter, and if ever a chin expressed determination, his did.

[Illustration: IN LOOK AND IN DEED, WILLIAM EATON WAS A FIGHTER.]

His career, as I heard it later from the lips of the commodore, was
fascinating. His father had been a farmer-teacher who raised crops
in the summer and taught school in the winter. William, who was born
in Woodstock, Connecticut, developed into a lad with a studious yet
adventurous spirit. When sixteen he ran away from home and enlisted
in the army where he was employed as a waiter by Major Dennie, of the
Connecticut troops.


A DARTMOUTH LAD

After he had risen to the rank of sergeant, he decided that he
would like to go to college, and secured an honorable discharge. He
was admitted as a freshman to Dartmouth College, at Hanover, New
Hampshire, but was given permission to be absent during the coming
winter, in order that he might by teaching school obtain enough money
to pursue his studies. Due, however, to difficulties at home, he was
forced to prolong his school teaching, and it was not until two years
later that he was able to return to Dartmouth. With his pack suspended
from a staff thrown over his shoulder, he started on foot for Hanover.

In his pack was a change of linen and a few articles which he expected
to sell on his journey. When he reached Northfield, his money gave out,
and he was in despair. He began, however, to offer his pins, needles
and other notions for sale, and with the proceeds he was able to go
on to college. Here he was received with great kindness by President
Wheelock, and here he pursued his studies, handicapped by sickness and
by the necessity of teaching school in town. At last, in August, 1790,
he received his degree. In March, 1792, he was appointed a captain in
the army of the United States, and was assigned to duty at Pittsburgh
and later at Cincinnati.

His prediction as to a troubled career in Tunis came true.

With an embrace and a God-speed from Commodore Barney, I sailed with
Captain Eaton for Tunis. Arriving there, Mr. Cathcart led the captain
to the Bey's palace. I was allowed to follow. We were ushered into the
Bey's Hall of State, and there the captain must approach and bow to a
fat-faced individual who frowned on him as if he were a stray cur that
had wandered in among his satins and velvets. This fellow, from his
safe place among his over-dressed officers, poured out abuse.

"It is now more than a year since your country promised me gifts of
arms and ships! Why have they not been sent to me?"

Captain Eaton replied with dignity: "The treaty was received by our
government about eight months ago; a malady then raged in our capital,
which forced not only the citizens, but all the departments of the
government, to fly into the interior villages of the country. About
the time the plague ceased to rage, and permitted the return of the
government, the winter shut up our harbors with ice. We are also
engaged in a war with France; and all our means were used to defend
ourselves against that country." He then went on to explain that he was
empowered to offer a cash sum instead of the naval stores promised.

"I am not a beggar," said the Bey, "I have cash to spare. The stores
are more than ever needed because of my war with France. You have found
no trouble in fulfilling your promises to Algiers and Tripoli; and to
Algiers have made presents of frigates and other armed vessels."

The captain explained that the Dey of Algiers had agreed to pay for
certain armed vessels built for him by the United States, and that,
moreover, several years' time had been allowed for their delivery.

"You may inform me," said the Bey, "that the Dey of Algiers paid you
cash for your vessels. I do not believe it."

Arguments such as this one went on forever.

Our first pilgrimage, after becoming settled in Tunis, was to visit the
hill which was once the site of Carthage. We passed through fertile
pastures where donkeys, sheep, cattle, and camels were feeding, and
among fields of wheat, barley, and oats where awkward camels were used
for plowing. Captain Eaton's military soul became aroused as we stood
at the place where the great Hannibal was born.

My chief was well acquainted with Carthaginian history and thrilled
me with his description of how Hannibal, commanding an army of paid
mercenaries--Africans, Spaniards, Gauls, and Italians--managed them for
thirteen years through wars and hardships in a foreign country without
experiencing a single mutiny. Captain Eaton little dreamed that, on a
small scale to be sure, fate had designed him to play the part of a
Hannibal for his own country--but this will be told in due time.

When I was not on duty I spent my time taking donkey tours of the
city, with an Arab boy running behind me to make my stubborn steed go.
In this fashion I visited the Maltese, Jewish and Arab quarters, and
explored the bazaars. When I grew hungry, why, here was the stand of an
Arab who sold sweetmeats, and there was the booth of a man who fried
meat and sold it hot from the fire, while always in the streets were
fruit merchants selling fresh dates, oranges, and figs. When I stopped
to buy curios, the swarthy, turbaned dealers usually invited me into
their little shops to sit cross-legged on the floor and sip strong
black coffee while we haggled over prices.


THE HORSE-WHIPPING

Before we arrived in Tunis, the agent there for the United States
was a French merchant, named Joseph Etienne Famin. Upon our arrival
the English consul at Tunis, Major Magre, warned Captain Eaton not
to place confidence in Famin, stating that he was a dangerous man
who would set snares for his successor. Captain Eaton soon learned
that the Frenchman had protested to the Bey against the United States
establishing a consul there "to keep the bread out of his mouth."

The captain, lonely among enemies, rewarded my faithfulness by taking
me into his confidence. He told me that he had found that Famin had
yielded to every outrageous demand made by the Bey against the United
States, which Famin represented. Captain Eaton also told me that he
suspected the Frenchman of reaping a profit from the presents sent by
the United States to the ruler. Famin, we learned, had declared to the
Bey that Eaton was nothing but a vice-consul, subject to Consul-General
O'Brien at Algiers, and only placed at Tunis to spy upon the court.

At last, when the Frenchman told the court that "the Americans were a
feeble sect of Christians" and that their independence from England
"was the gift of France," Captain Eaton, giving him his jacket to hold,
horse-whipped Famin at the marine gate of Tunis, before a crowd of
amazed Moslems.

Famin went whining to the Bey and demanded that Eaton be punished.

"How dare you lift your hand against a subject of mine in my kingdom?"
the Bey demanded of Captain Eaton, who took me with him to the palace.

[Illustration: "HOW DARE YOU LIFT YOUR HAND AGAINST A SUBJECT OF MINE?"
THE BEY OF TUNIS DEMANDED OF EATON.]

The captain replied that Famin had tried to betray him, and had tried
also to betray the Bey. He brought forth a paper, and prepared to read
its contents.

"Hear him call your prime minister and your agents a set of thieves and
robbers!" exclaimed Captain Eaton.

"Mercy! Forbearance!" cried Famin.

"Yes, _thieves_ and _robbers_! This is the man of your confidence!" the
consul went on. Then I heard him tell the Bey that Famin had blabbed
all his secrets to a woman, who had repeated them to others, so that
all the town knew that he was playing a double game with the Americans,
and increasing the misunderstandings that had arisen between the
American envoy and the court.

Famin trembled as if in a fit, and began an address in Arabic.

"Speak French!" said the Bey, frowning.

The ruler was at last convinced of the Frenchman's guilt. As we quitted
the place we heard the Bey say to his court:

"The American consul has been heated, but truly he has had reason.
I have found him a very plain, candid man; and his concern for his
fellow-citizens is not a crime."

On one occasion, while Captain Eaton was in the palace, I paid a visit
to the executioner, who occupied a lodge at the entrance to the palace.
I went with an interpreter, a friend of the executioner, but even under
the circumstances I felt timid when the official took down from its
place on the wall a long curved scimitar and began to feel its edge as
a reaper feels the blade of his scythe.

"It is a good blade--it has never failed me," he said, "even though I
have had to slice off as many as twenty heads in a day."

If one is disposed to think that the ancient cruelty of these Turkish
rulers has been decreased, let him think of these cruelties which we
saw enacted in spite of our attempts to stop them.

Five corsairs from Tunis, manned by nine hundred and ninety men, sailed
forth and landed upon the island of St. Peters, belonging to Sardinia.
They captured and brought back with them as prisoners to Tunis two
hundred and twenty men and seven hundred women and children. In the
raid upon the island, old men and women, and mothers with infants were
pulled from their beds, driven down stairs or hurled from windows,
driven almost naked through the streets, crowded into the filthy holds
of the cruisers, and then, when landed at Tunis, bound with thongs and
driven through the streets to the auction square, where they were sold
into slavery. The old, the infirm and the infants, being unfit to work,
were left to shift for themselves. If it had not been for contributions
made by Captain Eaton and European ambassadors, they would have died of
starvation.

The sum of $640,000 was demanded by the Bey for the ransom of the
slaves, but at last he agreed to accept $270,000 from the king of
Sardinia for their redemption.


WAR BREAKS OUT WITH TRIPOLI

A fire broke out in the palace and destroyed fifty thousand stands of
arms. The Bey called upon Captain Eaton to request the United States to
forward him ten thousand stands of arms. "I have divided my loss," he
said, "among my friends; this quota falls to you to furnish; tell your
government to send them without delay."

Captain Eaton refused to forward the demand. "You will never receive a
single musket from the United States!" he declared.

Meanwhile, Captain Eaton's neighbor consul, Mr. Cathcart, was
having similar troubles at the court of Tripoli. We learned from
correspondence that in April, 1800, Tripoli's greedy Bashaw had bidden
Cathcart, the American consul, to tell the President of the United
States that while "he was pleased with his proffers of friendship, had
they been accompanied by a present of a frigate or brig-of-war, he
would be still more inclined to believe them genuine."

In May the Bashaw asked: "Why do not the United States send me a
present? I am an independent prince as well as the Bey of Tunis, and I
can hurt the commerce of any nation as much as the ruler of Tunis."

The President paid no heed to these threats. Thereupon, on May 18,
1801, the Bashaw cut down the flagstaff of the American consulate at
Tripoli. Consul Cathcart quitted the city, and a state of war was
declared.

Matters came to a head with us in Tunis in March, 1803. Commodore
Morris had been detained in port by the Bey because the American
squadron had seized a Tunisian vessel bound for Tripoli, with which
country the United States was at war. Consul Eaton had protested with
more than usual vigor against this outrage. The Bey ordered him to quit
the court at once.

"It is well," replied Captain Eaton, "I am glad to quit a court where I
have known such violence and indignity!"

On the 10th of March, we left Tunis on board of one of the ships of the
American squadron. Doctor George Davis, of New York, was left in charge
of American affairs. On the 30th of the same month, Captain Eaton
sailed from Gibraltar in the merchant ship _Perseverance_, bound for
Boston, at which port he arrived May 5th. He then went to Washington
to urge that a land campaign be waged against the ruling Bashaw of
Tripoli, of which project more will appear in this story. He was
appointed navy agent for the United States and instructed to aid in the
campaign of our squadron against the Bashaw of Tripoli.

I hoped while in Tunis to obtain a leave of absence that I might join a
caravan that would pass by Tokra, the treasure city of my dreams. But
no opportunity came. I remained with the fleet while Captain Eaton was
at home and rejoined him when he returned. He brought with him a plan
of campaign that, in operation, was to bring me well within reach of
the treasure spot.

[Illustration: I HOPED THAT I MIGHT JOIN A CARAVAN THAT WOULD PASS BY
TOKRA--THE TREASURE CITY OF MY DREAMS.]




CHAPTER XI

THE LOSS OF THE _PHILADELPHIA_


     "_But sailors were born for all weathers,_
       _Great guns let it blow, high or low,_
     _Our duty keeps us to our tethers,_
       _And where the gales drive we must go._"


Hard luck, indeed! The frigate _Philadelphia_ stranded on a reef in
the harbor of Tripoli, and Captain Bainbridge and his men were left
captives in the hands of the Bashaw. Yet the ill wind for them was a
kind wind for me, since it brought me a chance to serve under Stephen
Decatur in what men say is one of the most brilliant exploits in our
navy's annals.

Fortunately, before this disaster befell, Captain Bainbridge had been
given an opportunity to show the Mediterranean squadron his mettle, for
Commodore Preble had assigned the _Philadelphia_, under Bainbridge, to
blockade duty on the Barbary Coast.

When I fell in again with Samuel Childs and Reuben James after my
sojourn in Tunis, the first yarn spun to me in the night watch was that
of how the _Philadelphia_ had been captured. Reuben James was boatswain
aboard of her when she was seized. He dived overboard and swam to
safety when he saw that the jig was up, and rejoined the fleet to tell
again and again the story of Bainbridge's gallantry in the face of
misfortune.

Reuben's story ran like this: The _Philadelphia_, while cruising in the
vicinity of Cape Gata, had come upon and hailed a cruiser and a brig.
When the commander of the cruiser, at Captain Bainbridge's repeated
demands, sent a boat aboard with his ship's papers, the captain learned
that the cruiser belonged to the Emperor of Morocco; that her name
was the _Meshboha_; that her commander was Ibrahim Lubarez; that she
carried twenty-two guns and one hundred men.

The captain then sent an armed party to search the brig. He found
imprisoned in her hold Captain Richard Bowen, and seven men. The brig
was the _Celia_ of Boston. Captain Bainbridge released her crew, and
imprisoned the officers and men of the _Meshboha_ aboard his frigate.

Asked by what authority he had captured an American vessel, Ibrahim
Lubarez replied that he understood that Morocco intended to declare
war on the United States and that when he seized the vessel he thought
that a state of war existed. The captain suspected that the Emperor
of Morocco had given orders that American ships be seized. "You have
committed an act of piracy," he told the Moor, "and for it you will
swing at our yardarm!"

"Mercy! Mercy!" wailed Ibrahim. Unbuttoning five waistcoats, he brought
forth from a pocket of the fifth a secret document signed by the
Governor of Tangiers.

Captain Bainbridge reported the matter to Captain Preble, and the
latter at once proceeded to Tangiers with four frigates. There the
Emperor abjectly disclaimed all knowledge of the affair, renewed his
treaty, deprived the Governor of Tangiers of his office, and punished
the commander of the _Meshboha_.

The American squadron was given a salute of twenty-one guns; a present
of ten bullocks with sheep and fowl was made to Captain Preble, and
the Emperor's court reviewed the American ships and engaged with them
in an exchange of salutes.

But, Reuben testified, when the American officers discussed the
Emperor's declaration of innocence, they spoke of it as if it were a
huge joke.

On the morning of October 31st, 1803, Reuben, who was the lookout on
the _Philadelphia_, espied a corsair sneaking out of a port. Captain
Bainbridge at once swung his vessel round in pursuit. The wind was
strong, enabling the frigate to gain on the pirate craft.

The ship was one of a corsair fleet under command of the Bashaw's
captains, Zurrig, Dghees, Trez, Romani, and El Mograbi. Zurrig had
sailed away from the other vessels on purpose to decoy the American
ship on to a line of partly-submerged rocks that lay in the waters
of the bay, parallel to the shore. The captain of the corsair knew
every yard of the coast, and by hugging the shore, he soon drew the
pursuing frigate into shallow water. The _Philadelphia_ had drawn close
enough to the fleeing vessel to attack with the bow guns, and in the
excitement of seeing if the shots struck home, the officers and crew
forgot that their vessel was in danger of running upon a reef the
corsair knew well how to avoid.


A BRAVE OFFICER'S BAD LUCK

Eight fathoms of water had been reported. Then the men who threw the
lead reported seven fathoms. The cry of six and a half fathoms soon
followed. Captain Bainbridge at once gave the order to head seaward.
The helm was thrown hard over; the sails flapped as the vessel came
up to the wind. It seemed that she would reach deep water safely, but
suddenly the vessel struck a rock and rose with her bow six feet
out of water. From beneath the walls of the city, scarcely three
miles away, the Bashaw's gunboats put out and opened fire on the
_Philadelphia_. Captain Bainbridge made every possible attempt to free
his vessel. The guns forward and other parts of her equipment were
thrown overboard, but the reef held her in an unyielding grip. Her crew
returned the fire of the corsairs as best they could, but as the tide
went out, the ship keeled over and the guns could no longer be fired.
Captain Bainbridge ordered that the magazine be flooded; that the pumps
be wrecked; and that holes be bored in the ship's bottom.

Warships--feluccas and other small boats crowded with Arabs--now
attacked the _Philadelphia_. Led by their captains, they swarmed over
her sides. The Americans fought with small arms, wounding six of their
assailants, but Bainbridge saw that his men would be massacred if the
fight were prolonged, and hauled down the flag. Bainbridge and his crew
of three hundred and fifteen men then surrendered. A few of the best
swimmers took to the water, Reuben among them, but all were captured
except him.

The captives, by means I will later describe, managed to write
frequently to their friends aboard vessels of the fleet. Reuben
corresponded with Tom Bowles, and thus knew as much about the
experiences of the prisoners as if he were among them.

A few days later, he found out, the pirates managed to haul the vessel
off the reef at flood-tide. They recovered the guns that had been
thrown overboard, and boasted that their navy now owned a splendid
American warship that had come into their possession without spending
a sequin, or a drop of blood. The red flag bearing the crescent of
the Moslems was lifted where the Stars and Stripes had flown. To purge
the vessel of Christian contamination, and to consecrate her to the
Prophet, the green flag of Mohammed was unfurled at certain periods.

As soon as the Americans gave up their arms, the infidels began to
plunder them of all of their valuables. Swords, epaulets, trinkets,
money, and clothing were taken. Captain Bainbridge wore a locket
around his neck that contained a miniature picture of his wife. One of
the looters snatched at it, but Captain Bainbridge made a determined
resistance and was at last allowed to keep the trinket.

The boats containing the prisoners reached the docks of Tripoli at
ten o'clock that night. The Bashaw was eager to inspect his captives,
and received them in his audience hall, where he and his staff sat
gloating. After much questioning, he sent them to supper, placing them
under the care of Sidi Mohammed D'Ghiers, his prime minister. Mr.
Nissen, the Danish consul, came promptly to comfort the prisoners, and
to offer them such assistance as was in his power to render.

The Bashaw, who knew that some of the twenty-two officers he had bagged
were members of prominent American families who could afford to pay big
ransoms, was so delighted with the capture that he did not at first
treat the captives severely. They were allowed to wander among groves
of olive, fig, and lemon trees, and, on feast days, were sprinkled with
attar of roses and fumigated with frankincense, while slaves served
them coffee and sherbet.

The under-officers and sailors were at first treated with some
consideration. The carpenters, riggers, and sailmakers were employed
in making repairs on the Bashaw's gun-boats. The seamen worked on
fortifications. These men, by working overtime, earned a little money,
which they usually spent for drink. The Mussulmans hated drunkenness.
When they saw a drunken American, they spat in his face. Jack, in turn,
thrashed the offender. Arrest and punishment followed, but the Moslems
who guarded the slaves were subject to bribery and lightened their
blows.

When the sailor was sentenced to receive blows on his bare feet, the
guard would cover the soles with straw pads, telling the culprit
to yell as if he were being hurt, as the chief of the guards was
standing outside to tell by the cries whether the punishment was being
administered.

The comfort of the officers was soon to end. Reuben showed me letters
received from Tom Bowles written at this period that were full of
bitter complaints. It appeared that the Bashaw summoned Captain
Bainbridge to his presence and told him that one of his ships had been
captured by the American war vessel _John Adams_, and that if their
prisoners were not released the officers and men of the _Philadelphia_
would be severely treated. Captain Bainbridge was not able to give a
reply that satisfied the ruler. The Bashaw then ordered that he and
his men be removed to a foul dungeon. There, in a room once used for
smoking hides, they were obliged to remain without food except a little
black bread and water.

A renegade Scotchman named Lisle, in the employ of the Bashaw, visited
Captain Bainbridge here and urged him to send a message to the _John
Adams_ to release the prisoners.

Captain Bainbridge answered: "Your ruler can subject me to torture
and can lop off my head, but he can not force me to commit an act
incompatible with the character of an American officer."

When Captain Bainbridge learned that the Bashaw of Tripoli designed
to use the _Philadelphia_ as the chief ship of his own navy, he was
greatly distressed.

With the aid of the Danish consul Nissen, he managed to write a letter
to Commodore Preble, who was on his way to blockade Tripoli. This
letter he wrote in lemon juice, which, when the paper is held to the
fire, becomes readable. This letter Commodore Preble showed to the
officers and enlisted men of the squadron, and even gave us permission
to copy it for keepsakes in honor of Captain Bainbridge's pluck and
resourcefulness. In the letter the latter advanced this plan for
destroying his frigate:


     "Charter a small merchant schooner, fill her with men and have
     her commanded by fearless and determined officers. Let the vessel
     enter the harbor at night, with her men secreted below deck;
     steer her directly on board the frigate and then let the officers
     and men board, sword in hand, and there is no doubt of their
     success. It will be necessary to take several good rowboats in
     order to facilitate the retreat after the enterprise has been
     accomplished. The frigate in her present condition is a powerful
     auxiliary battery for the defense of the harbor. Though it will
     be impossible to remove her from anchorage and thus restore this
     beautiful vessel to our navy, yet, as she may and no doubt will be
     repaired, an important end will be gained by her destruction."


How faithfully this plan was carried out by Commodore Preble and his
men, I shall soon show.




CHAPTER XII

WE BLOW UP THE _PHILADELPHIA_


A DUEL

Reuben, Samuel and other members of our crew attended a theatrical
performance in Malta during a period in which our ship was detained in
that harbor by a gale.

There were British ships in port and the contacts of their crews with
men from our ships was seldom friendly. The little affair of the
Revolution had not yet been forgotten, and, besides, the British habit
of impressing us did not contribute towards a harmonious spirit. This
island was one of England's fortresses in those waters and, of course,
Englishmen abounded.

We saw in the theatre several of our midshipmen, looking very spruce
in their dress uniforms, with brass buttons shining and with flashing
dirks hanging by light chains from their hips. Among them was Joseph
Bainbridge, the younger brother of Captain William Bainbridge. He was
a slender, bright-eyed, manly young fellow, the most popular middie
aboard the _Constitution_.

The group were standing in the lobby as we entered. We saw a crowd of
young British officers looking them over with an air that came near to
being insulting. Our middies were returning their gaze boldly and with
even more insolence.

One of the British officers, a tall, handsome fellow looking very fine
in his scarlet coat with silk braid, collided with Bainbridge in the
lobby.

"I beg your pardon," we heard young Bainbridge say. The lads had been
warned by the captain to avoid quarrels and Bainbridge, we could see,
was trying to obey the command.

"That fellow pushed Joe on purpose," said Reuben, clenching his huge
fist. "I've heard of that pusher--he's Captain Tyler, the Governor's
secretary, a bad man in a duel. He has a dozen deaths to his credit,
and is itching to add an American life to his score!"

When the performance was over--the singer Carlotta had entertained
us well--we went out behind the middies, as a sort of rear-guard. We
weren't looking for trouble, but if those lads got into a tussle, we
felt that they might need aid from some plain sailors.

Captain Tyrone Tyler was standing where Bainbridge and his comrades had
to pass. He gave young Bainbridge a dig with his elbow, whereupon our
middy turned and spoke to him sharply. Tyler then jammed his elbow into
the middy's face, and with his other hand tried to seize our lad by the
collar.

"Rough work--stand by!" said Reuben to us. We pushed forward.

Bainbridge, however, had eluded Tyler's grasp.

His hand went out towards his tormentor, but it had a card in it.

"You are a bully and a coward," he said as cool as ice, "and I welcome
the duty of putting a stop to your insults to American officers."

Tyler took the card from him. The comrades of both men closed in.

"It'll be a duel," said Reuben, in great disgust, "and our lad will go
up against that killer! Why didn't he decide to let us settle it with
our fists?"

As the two parties separated, Reuben glanced towards another part of
the lobby. "What ho," he exclaimed, "there's Lieutenant Decatur looking
on! He'd have taken part in the affair, you can bet your boots!"

Stephen Decatur, first lieutenant of the _Constitution_, followed the
midshipman out of the theatre. We saw him approach Bainbridge and draw
him away from the other middies, who were as flustered as hens.

We learned later that the meeting was to be on the beach the next day
at nine o'clock. You may be sure that every man Jack of us was on the
lookout to see if Lieutenant Decatur intended to permit Bainbridge to
go ashore. When we saw them go off together in the cutter there was
little work done among the crew. It looked to us as if the midshipman
was on his way to sure death, and we decided that Decatur was going to
seek a way out of the quarrel for the lad.

Reuben shook his head. "That would be against the honor of the United
States' navy. Decatur may give him a lesson or two in duelling, but
he'll see the thing through. They're leaving the ship a full hour and
a half before the time set--I'll wager there'll be pistol practice
somewhere."

About half-past nine a boat put out from the shore. There were two
officers in it and both sat upright and chatted to each other. Could it
be that----?

An hour later, young Bainbridge told us what had happened. Decatur, as
the second of Bainbridge, had chosen pistols at four paces. Tyler's
second objected. "This looks like murder, sir!" he said to Decatur.

The lieutenant replied: "No sir, this looks like death; your friend is
a professed duellist; mine is inexperienced."

Decatur gave the warning: "Take aim!" and then "Fire!" Both, through
agitation, missed. Again they faced each other. The pistols were
discharged simultaneously. Tyler fell. A surgeon hurried towards him,
while Bainbridge turned to Decatur. "I don't think his bullet touched
me!" he said.

"I thank God for that!" said the lieutenant. "I fear it is not so well
with your adversary, but he invited it. Let's be off!" They passed poor
Tyler, lying mortally wounded, and lifted their hats as they went.

Reuben James, ever since I met him, had talked Decatur, Decatur,
Decatur. He idolized him. During our country's affair with France he
had served on a frigate on which Decatur was a midshipman, and the
exploits of the young officer had so appealed to Reuben that he would
have followed the youth into the mouth of death.

And indeed, what Reuben told me about Decatur made me also a fervent
worshipper.

My own state was proud to claim Decatur as a son, for he was born in
Sinnepuxent, Maryland. He was of the blood of Lafayette. His father
and grandfather had been naval officers before him; and the former had
served with honor on our side in the war of the Revolution.

This, however, was not his first experience in these waters. He had
been an officer in Captain Dale's squadron, serving on the _Essex_
under Captain Bainbridge. Bainbridge and he had been linked in an
affair that made him eager now to help his imprisoned friend. The
commander of a Spanish gunboat insulted Captain Bainbridge at long
distance while the _Essex_ lay in the harbor of Barcelona. Later
Decatur was also insulted. Decatur visited the gunboat.

"Where is your captain?" he demanded of the officer on duty.

"He has gone ashore," was the reply.

"Tell him that Lieutenant Decatur, of the frigate _Essex_, pronounces
him a cowardly scoundrel, and that when they meet on shore he will cut
his ears off!"

The matter came to the attention of the commandant of the port, who
requested Captain Bainbridge to curb his fiery officer. The captain
replied that if the gunboat commander did not know how to be courteous
to American officers he must take the consequences. The commandant
thereupon ordered the gunboat captain to apologize to Decatur. The
matter reached the ears of the King of Spain.

"Treat all officers of the United States with courtesy," he ordered,
"and especially those attached to the United States frigate _Essex_."


DECATUR'S BRILLIANT EXPLOIT

Seventy volunteers were required to help Lieutenant Decatur blow up
the _Philadelphia_. Seventy volunteers--that meant that I had a chance
to go. Fortunately, I was one of the first to hear the orders read,
and thus had an opportunity to apply before others. Captain Eaton was
on board the _Siren_, returning from sitting at the court of inquiry,
when Lieutenant Stewart, commander of the _Siren_, read to him orders
he had just received from Commodore Preble. I, as orderly to Captain
Eaton, was present at the reading. Plain and direct was the message,
but thrilling enough without flourishes.

I stepped forward.

"Pardon me, Sir," I said, "but I want to be one of the seventy
volunteers. I speak also for Reuben James. Reuben has served under
Lieutenant Decatur at other times, and he'd be heartbroken to be left
behind."

I realized as I waited for a reply that I had done a bold thing. I was
not supposed to be hearing the letter read, much less acting upon it.
However, Lieutenant Stewart was not strict about discipline and he took
no offence at my act.

"Your name goes down!" he said, "also Reuben James, though he'll be
given a chance to speak for himself. You show the right spirit, young
man, but don't feel lofty about it, for I expect any other man of our
navy would have said the same thing if he were standing in your place."

Properly humbled, I went off to tell Reuben James that he had me to
thank for gaining him an adventure.

Lieutenant Stewart's prediction came true. The crews of the squadron
actually fought with each other for a chance to go. Decatur's name to
them spelt romance. His exploits had been on every man's lips.

The crew of the ketch _Intrepid_ having been chosen, off we started. It
was sundown when we drifted into the harbor of Tripoli. We approached
the city knowing that a sudden fear of attack had swept over Tripoli;
that the forts were manned; the guns loaded, and a sharp watch kept.

We learned later that the Moslem guards congratulated themselves when
they saw the ketch entering the harbor, thinking that it was manned by
good Mohammedans who had had the shrewdness to escape blockading ships.

The gates of the city were shut. The Captain of the Port would not
inspect the ship until morning. The call of the muezzin sounded over
the still waters of the bay. Night fell on the city.

On board the _Intrepid_ all of the crew, except six men disguised
as Moors, were concealed below deck or behind bulwarks. Our ketch
drifted towards the _Philadelphia_. A sentinel on the frigate hailed
us, but the answer came back from our Maltese pilot in the sentry's
own language to the effect that the ketch had lost her anchors
during a recent gale and wished to make fast to the anchors of the
_Philadelphia_ until new ones could be purchased the next morning. As
if taking permission for granted, Lieutenant Decatur directed Blake,
a sailor who spoke Maltese, and Reuben and myself to set out from
the ketch in a small boat for the purpose of fastening a line to a
ring-bolt on the frigate's bow. When this was done, the sailors on
the ketch were to haul on the line, to bring our boat nearer to the
frigate. The men hidden behind the bulwarks caught the rope as it
came through the hands of their disguised comrades, and helped in the
hauling.

Suspecting nothing, the Moslems on the _Philadelphia_ sent in turn a
small boat with a line to aid in mooring the _Intrepid_, but Blake met
them and took the line from their hands, saying, in broken Maltese:

"We will save the gentlemen the trouble."

So far so good. But now, as the ketch was being hauled in by the bow
line, the pull of the stern line swung her broadside towards the
Tripolitans, and the guards on the _Philadelphia_ saw the men who,
under the screen of the bulwarks, were hauling in the line.

"Americanos! Americanos!" we heard them shriek.

Swift action followed on the part of Decatur. The hidden sailors sprang
into the open and gave the line a pull that sent the ketch close to
the _Philadelphia_. An Arab cut the rope, but the Americans were now
near enough to throw grapnels.

"Boarders away!" Decatur shouted. We in the boat clambered up the sides
of the _Philadelphia_. The rest of the seventy climbed like cats over
the vessel's rail with Midshipman Morris in the lead and Decatur at
his heels. The _Philadelphia's_ deck was home ground to many of us,
and in a moment we had cleared the quarterdecks of the enemy. Then, in
a cutlass charge, we drove the panic-stricken crew before us. Some of
the infidels leaped overboard. Others sought refuge below, but died at
the hands of sailors who had climbed through the ports. In ten minutes'
time a rocket went up from the Americans to signal to the _Siren_ that
the _Philadelphia_ had been taken.

Combustibles had been rushed on board. Firing gangs were distributed
through the ship. So swift was the work and so fierce was the blaze
that Midshipman Morris and his gang, who were setting fire to the
cockpit, were almost cut off by flames started elsewhere. From the
portholes on both sides the flames leaped out, enveloping the upper
deck. I saw that Decatur was the last to leave the ship.

The ketch, when all of the boarding party had returned to it in safety,
had its period of danger too, for while it was still fastened at the
frigate's stern, flames poured from the cabin of the _Philadelphia_
into the cabin of the ketch where the ammunition was stored. The line
was instantly severed. The crew laboring desperately with the big
sweeps, eight to a side, pushed the _Intrepid_ clear of the burning
vessel and headed for the sea.

At last the flames reached the magazine of the vessel, which burst
with a tremendous roar. Great sheets of flames arose and sparks flew
like a storm of stars over the waters of the harbor. This was the end
of the good ship _Philadelphia_.


Every man on the _Intrepid_ returned without injury. Lord Nelson later
declared this exploit to be "the most bold and daring act of the age."
Decatur was made a captain. He received a letter from the Secretary of
the Navy, and noted with joy that it was addressed to "Stephen Decatur,
Esq., Captain in the Navy of the United States." His pride increased
when he read:


     "The achievement of this brilliant enterprise reflects the highest
     honor on all the officers and men concerned. You have acquitted
     yourself in a manner which justifies the high confidence we have
     reposed in your valor and your skill. The President has desired
     me to convey to you his thanks for your gallant conduct on this
     occasion, and he likewise requests that you will in his name thank
     each individual of your gallant band for their honorable and
     valorous support, rendered the more honorable from its having been
     volunteered. As a testimonial of the President's high opinion of
     your gallant conduct in this instance, he sends you the enclosed
     commission."


Some people asked if the _Philadelphia_ could not have been saved,
though Commodore Preble's orders were to destroy her. We heard one of
the captive officers of the frigate say later:

"I know of nothing which could have rendered it impracticable to the
captors to have taken the _Philadelphia_ out of the harbor of Tripoli."
The pilot on board the ketch, _Catalona_, was of the same opinion.
Decatur himself told his wife that he believed that he could have
towed the ship out, even if he could not have sailed her.

But Commodore Preble, in setting down explicit orders to destroy her,
had written: "I was well informed that her situation was such as to
render it impossible to bring her out."

He wrote thus because Captain Bainbridge himself had written:


     "By chartering a merchant vessel and sending her into the harbor
     with men secreted, and steering directly on board the frigate, it
     might be effected without any or a trifling loss. It would not be
     possible to carry the frigate out, owing to the difficulty of the
     channel."


The main object was to get the _Philadelphia_ out of the possession of
Tripoli. This Decatur did without risking the success of his enterprise.




CHAPTER XIII

THE AMERICAN EAGLE ENTERS THE AFRICAN DESERT


Hotter and hotter grew our campaign. Thicker and faster adventures
came. I could not be in the center of all of them, but I had reason to
be glad that I had been with Captain Eaton in Tunis, because now he
was returning to the seat of war to launch an attack, and I, because
of his friendship for me, was granted the chance to go along. This new
enterprise came about in this way.

Captain Bainbridge, I was told by Captain Eaton, while a prisoner in
Tripoli, observed in the Bashaw's court three forlorn children. He
inquired who they were.

"They are the children of Hamet Bashaw," a guard informed him. "Hamet
Bashaw is the elder brother of our ruler, Joseph Bashaw. Hamet occupied
this throne, until Joseph set on foot a rebellion and drove him out.
Hamet fled to Egypt, and his children were captured by our monarch's
troops. They are now held here as hostages, to insure that Hamet will
make no attempts to regain the kingdom."

"That gives me an idea," Captain Bainbridge remarked to his officers,
and he set to work to plan to unite against Joseph the forces of Hamet
and the United States.

The lemon juice was again used as ink. In his letter to one of the
consuls, the captain suggested that the United States should send a
party out to find Hamet and persuade him to lead a movement to regain
his throne, using in the campaign marines and sailors of the American
navy.

It was this scheme, proposed to him while he was in Tunis, that Captain
Eaton advanced when he visited the Navy Department. He returned to the
fleet with permission to join forces with Hamet.

My employer's enterprise seemed at first thought to be doomed to
failure. Most naval men disapproved and Captain Murray, then in command
of the Gibraltar squadron, opposed it strenuously. Captain Eaton's
title of "Naval Agent" was also resented by Murray and other officers.
The captain met their attacks with his usual vigor.

"The government," he burst out, "may as well send out _Quaker
meeting-houses_ to float about this sea as frigates with Murrays in
command. The friendly salutes he may receive and return at Gibraltar
produce nothing at Tripoli. Have we but one Truxton and one Sterret in
the United States?" Later, he included Preble and Decatur in his list
of worthy officers.

Our first task, then, was to find Hamet, whom Joseph had displaced as
ruler of Tripoli.

In the finding of Hamet we were greatly assisted by a German engineer
named Leitensdorfer, who had been a colonel in a Tyrol battalion. At
this period he was at Cairo, employed as a military engineer by the
Turks. News came to him that Captain Eaton desired a secret agent to
deliver a message to Hamet. He deserted the Turks and sought Captain
Eaton, who employed him.

With one attendant and two dromedaries, he entered the desert in search
of the Arab tribe that had given shelter to Hamet. The only sleep he
secured was what he could snatch on the back of his beast; he fed his
animals small balls composed of meal and eggs. Reaching the camp in
safety, he was cordially received, and refreshed with coffee. Hamet
agreed to the American proposals, and one night with one hundred and
fifty followers, he rode away from the Mameluke camp as if on an
ordinary ride, but instead he rode to our camp with Leitensdorfer.

It had been decided that our route of march should be over the Libyan
desert, along the sea-coast, to the town of Derne. The Viceroy at
Alexandria, bribed by the French consul, forbade us to enter the city
or to embark from the harbor. We were not troubled by this order,
however, because Hamet said that if he went by ship along the coast
while the Arabs were left to cross the desert, they would soon lose
heart and turn back.

Our object in attacking the Tripolitan cities of Derne and Bengazi was
to cut off the enemy's food supplies; to open a channel for intercourse
with the inland tribes; and to use these cities as recruiting places
for our attack on Tripoli.

The desert lay ahead of us--the place of which an ancient traveler once
said: "How can one live where not a drop of rain falls; where not a
single dish is to be had; where butter can no more be procured than the
philosopher's stone; where wheat is the diet of kings alone; where the
common man lives on dates, and fever has its headquarters?"

Except for oases here and there, the Libyan desert is so barren that
there is no animal life. At the oases, towns have been in existence
since the days of the Romans. In one of these, Ghadames, the streets
are covered from the sun, and give the traveler the impression that he
is entering a mine. Caravan roads run from oasis to oasis. Donkeys,
horses and cattle are used as beasts of burden, but the camel is the
chief of desert animals.

Tripoli extends for many hundreds of miles along the coast from Tunis
to Egypt. Its cities and oases contain about a million people. Along
its caravan routes traders bring ostrich feathers, elephant tusks, and
other products from Central Africa to be shipped to Europe.

Into this desert we push, a motley army. Arab adventurers have gathered
around Hamet, sheiks and tribesmen who are moved only by a hope of
plunder and reward. Our own American forces can be depended on, but
how few they are. The six marines are a good-natured, independent set,
sufficient unto themselves. They look at the Greek soldiers whom the
Greek captain has enlisted with great amusement, for the Greeks wear
kilts. However, they too are good-humored, and the Americans and Greeks
may be counted on to stick together, being Christians, against the
semi-hostile infidels.

Our food consists of dates, figs, apricots, camel's meat, and camel's
milk. After a while even these will grow scarce and famine will
confront us as it confronted Jacob and his sons in this same country,
but for the present let us not look forward to hunger.

At the front of our caravan, on swift camels bred for racing, ride
the sheiks. Trained to be on the watch for robber bands, they survey
the horizon keenly, although our expedition is so large that there is
little need to fear attack. Thieves will steal up to plunder at night,
but they dare not attempt robbery in force.

Behind these picturesque chiefs, come the freight camels, loaded with
all kinds of equipment and supplies. They are drab and sullen as the
desert itself. On these beasts ride their owners, Bedouins in long,
white or brown gowns, wrapped so that only their faces may be seen.

Our water we carry in pigskins, loaded on certain camels. There are
also jugs of oil. The water tastes like the pigskin, and it almost
sickens one to drink it.

We follow no path or road; there is none; yet our guides know the way
by rocks and hills or other marks. At night the stars are our only
guides, but the march has been arranged so that we camp near a well or
spring every night.

When we stop to rest, the camels kneel down to be relieved of their
burdens. Their feet are examined to see if they have been bruised,
and such wounds are treated and bound up, after which the camels are
hobbled to keep them from running away.

Meanwhile, our tents are being pitched. We smooth out the soft sand to
make a comfortable bed. We have brought fuel with us, and with this a
fire is made. Guards are stationed, and we sleep with our guns near our
hands. The Mohammedans in our party, after first rubbing their faces
and hands with sand because water is not to be had, kneel in prayer.

During the day the sun beats upon us with almost unbearable heat, and
as there are no clouds in the sky, the sun's rays, striking against the
white sand, almost blind us, while to make things more uncomfortable,
the camels raise a thick dust. We understand now why the Arabs wear
cloths about their heads. We follow their example, and cut slits in
the cloths for eyes and nose. After the sun goes down it is better for
traveling.

It is lucky for us that we are sailors and used to a rolling motion,
for the motion of the camel is like that of a ship.

A sand storm comes. A small black cloud arises and grows till in a
short time it has half covered the sky. The sand begins to blow, and
beats into our faces like hail. We stop the caravan; the camels kneel;
and fighting off terror, we lie down with our faces in the ground
beside the beasts. The blowing sand is so thick that it hides the sun.

The storm passes quickly. There has been, for all the blackness of the
clouds, no drop of rain.

After the sun goes down, the air becomes cool and blankets are needed.
The sky is full of low-hanging stars and the moon is big and mellow.

Once in a while we meet a wandering tribe that moves from green place
to green place with their animals, living in tents of camels'-hair
cloth. "_Aleikoom salaam!_" (Peace be with you!) they call to us,
bobbing up and down on their camels. "_Salaam aleikoom!_" (With you
be peace!) we answer. Bands of robbers appear in the distance. At the
oases we meet farmers who are not given to roving. They have priests
and sheiks, and worship in mosques, and raise grain and vegetables.
Once in a while a hospitable sheik roasts a kid on a stick and invites
us to dine. Fingers are forks here. We find it so highly seasoned with
red pepper that our mouths burn and our eyes water.

The approach of a caravan is picturesque and exciting. First you hear
a moaning sound like the wailing of a strong wind through a clump of
trees. Then a cloud appears on the horizon. In a few moments you see
that this cloud is of dust, and that in its midst are scores of camels.
The rumbling noise you heard is found to be merely the gurgling sound
that camels make.

It was also interesting to observe a caravan go into camp. The foreleg
of each camel was folded and tied to keep the beast from wandering;
baby camels, their white coats contrasting strongly with the dark brown
color of their parents' coats, knelt by their hobbled mothers.

The owners of the camels busied themselves in driving stakes for their
tents, while the women occupied themselves by arranging the palanquins
in which they and their little ones traveled on the backs of the
camels. These palanquins are no more or less than woolen tents made
of red blankets supported on the camels' backs by a framework of tree
branches. The camel's hump is wrapped around by woolen stuffs and on
each side of the hump a woman sits, surrounded by babies and bundles,
but protected by the canopy from the sun.

At some of the oases we passed we saw bronzed, graceful women and girls
weaving carpets and ornamenting veils and blankets. Two women worked at
an upright loom. One of these spinners unwound the skeins of wool while
the other wove, using her fingers as a shuttle. Peeping into one of
their tents I saw the entire family sitting around a wooden dish, into
which all dipped, while kids and dogs tried to poke their heads between
the children, eager to have a share in the repast.

The date palms were the principal trees at these oases. Nature, when
this land became a desert, yet provided the date palm to sustain the
life of the desert people. Each tree yields a hundred pounds or more
of dates yearly for a century. The green dates taste like unripe
persimmons but the ripe dates are sugary and delicious. The Arabs call
the date the bread of the desert and besides using it as a main food,
feed it also to their camels and dogs.

It was on March 6th, 1805, that we broke camp and began our fifty days'
march across the desert--a journey that required all of the American
grit we could muster to carry on. Hunger and rebellion and the wavering
of Hamet himself had to be endured, and Arab chiefs had continually to
be coaxed and bribed.

There were ten Americans in the party: General Eaton, Lieutenant
O'Bannon; Mr. Peck, a non-commissioned officer, six marines, and
myself. The rest of the force was composed of a party of twenty-five
cannoniers and their three officers; thirty-eight Greek soldiers and
their two officers; Hamet Bashaw's company of ninety men; and a party
of Arab cavalry under the command of the Sheiks il Taiib and Mahamet,
including footmen and camel drivers. Our entire force numbered about
four hundred and our caravan consisted of one hundred and seven camels
and a few asses.


THE SHEIKS REBEL

After a day's march the first trouble occurred. The owners of the
camels and horses we had hired demanded pay in advance, but General
Eaton foresaw that if the money were advanced they would be in a
position to desert if they became dissatisfied, and he refused to
comply with their demands. They then became mutinous. To make matters
worse the Sheik il Taiib insinuated to them that if they performed
their services without getting paid, we would be apt to cheat them out
of their wages.

General Eaton appealed to Hamet but found him undecided and despondent,
and at last he made a bold move by ordering the Christians to take up
their arms and to march back to Alexandria, threatening to abandon both
the expedition and Hamet unless the march proceeded forward at once.
The expedition was resumed.

After we had marched about seventy-five miles through low sand valleys
and rocky, desert plains, a courier met us, sent to us by some of
Hamet's friends at Derne. He informed us that the province was arming
to assist our cause.

We chanced to be near the ruins of a castle of Greek design. Because
of the good news the Arabs entertained us with feats of horsemanship,
firing their rifles as they rode. This sport, however, came close to
bringing on a serious disaster. Our Arabs, who were on foot and who
were yet at a distance, bringing up the baggage, heard the firing
and thought that we had been attacked by wild Arabs of the desert.
Thereupon they attempted to disarm and put to death the Christians who
were in their party. One old Arab, however, advised them to postpone
the slaughter until they learned the cause of the firing. This counsel
they heeded, and the lives of the Christians were saved.

One night, not long after, a musket, a bayonet, cartridges, and all of
our stores of cheese were stolen from one of our tents by the Arabs.

When we had reached an ancient castle in the desert called by the
Arabs, Masroscan, another rebellion occurred. Here we found vestiges
of old walls, gardens, and mansions that showed that people of refined
tastes had lived there in the dim past. Now a few Arab families lived
in tents among the ruins. Here and there were patches of wheat and
barley, and miserable cattle, sheep, goats, and fowl searched the
ground for sustenance.

We learned that the Bashaw had directed the caravan to proceed only to
as far as this place, and that its owners had received no part of their
promised pay. General Eaton's cash was low, but he managed to borrow
one hundred and forty dollars among the Christian officers and men,
and turned over to Hamet Bashaw six hundred and seventy-three dollars,
with which he settled the claims of the chiefs of the caravan. Upon
this they agreed to march two days more, but in the night all these
camel-drivers withdrew and turned their camels towards Egypt.

Hamet Bashaw favored leaving the baggage at the castle and marching
on in the hope of hiring other camels, but, since we were now without
cash, General Eaton rejected this advice, as it would mean proceeding
without provisions and with no money to obtain fresh supplies.

Then the mischief-maker, Sheik il Taiib, reinforced by other sheiks,
declared that they would proceed no farther until we had sent forward a
messenger to learn if our American warships were awaiting our arrival
at Bomba, a sea-coast town on the route to Derne. These chiefs had
heard that an army of cavalry and foot soldiers had been sent from
Tripoli to the defence of Derne, and they wanted assurances that our
navy was at hand to help us against them.

"We will delay for no messenger!" General Eaton declared, "as long as
you halt here I will stop your rations."

To his companions he said: "If they persist in their course, we will
seize the castle, fortify ourselves, and send word to our fleet to send
a naval expedition to our relief!"

Then he added: "We have marched a distance of two hundred miles through
an inhospitable waste of world, but we are bound across this gloomy
desert on pursuits vastly different from those which lead fanatics to
Mecca; we go to liberate three hundred Americans from the chains of
barbarism!"

[Illustration: "WE ARE BOUND ACROSS THIS GLOOMY DESERT TO LIBERATE
THREE HUNDRED AMERICANS FROM THE CHAINS OF BARBARISM."--GENERAL EATON.]

On the next morning we found that General Eaton's firm stand had had
its effect, for fifty camels were reassembled by the sheiks and the
march was resumed. After traveling twenty-five miles we came to a high,
green place by the sea where three tribes of Arabs, numbering four
thousand, lived. Around them were vast herds of camels, horses, cattle,
and countless flocks of sheep and goats.

We were the first Christians these wild people had ever seen. They
laughed at our dress, but showed great respect towards our officers.
Our polished arms filled them with amazement, and the gold lace on
the General's hat, and his epaulettes, buttons and spurs awed them.
They thought that the ornaments were gold and silver, and expressed
astonishment that God should permit people, who followed what they
called the religion of the devil, to possess such riches. They offered
us for sale whatever food or articles they possessed, including such
rarities as young gazelles and ostriches. They offered us also dates
that had been brought in a five days' journey from the interior of
Africa. We desired to buy all that was offered, but, we had only
our rice to trade for their products, which greatly restricted our
purchasing power. Here we found water in plenty, the rain having been
caught and preserved in natural caverns of rock.

These Arab tribes had never seen bread. When we offered them hard
biscuit, they broke it with their shepherds' clubs or their hatchets
and tasted it gingerly, but then, liking the taste, they begged us for
more.




CHAPTER XIV

THE DESERT GIRL


Attracted by the sound of a drum, beating rhythmically and unceasingly,
we strolled after sunset to the entrance of an Arab tent. Old women,
with straggling hair and wizened faces, and with eyes ablaze with
excitement, were pounding the drum. The tent was thronged with young
men and women, who watched tensely and eagerly the dancers in their
center. Only young women were dancing. The dance was in honor of a holy
man, and was called the _djdib_.

Women, urged on by the drum and by the cries of the spectators, whirled
and swayed. Their heads rocked from side to side like tree-tops in a
tempest. The spirit of the dance had taken possession of them and urged
them on until there was no more strength left in their lithe bodies.

They danced until they became exhausted, then others threw aside their
scarves and renewed the dance.

I saw a golden-haired girl of about fifteen standing among the tawny
Arab girls. The contrast between her quiet beauty and the bold charms
of her companions drew the attention of all of the members of our
party. I pointed her out to General Eaton. He began to wonder aloud
as to whether she was one of the Circassian race, brought down from
the mountains by Arabian bandits in some raid, or whether she was of
Anglo-Saxon stock.

"She _must_ be a Circassian," he concluded, "it is unbelievable that
an English or American girl should be owned by this desert tribe!"

An old woman poked her hatchet-shaped face into that of the young girl.

"Go and dance! All these years you have been under the protection of
Allah. Who is this Nazarene--that you place him above Mohammed and his
saints? Go and dance. Give your spirit to the djinn! May Allah wither
your budding beauty if you refuse to worship his saint in the dance!"

She seized the young girl by her thick sash and pulled her into the
center. The band of ribbon that had bound her golden hair became loose;
her hair poured like a flood of gold over her shoulders. She stood
trembling amidst the wild dancers, some of whom, in their frenzy, were
digging her with their sharp elbows.

The drum beat insistently, but the girl did not obey its urge to dance.
She stood trembling, and now she raised her eyes towards us with a
pleading that roused us to interfere.

General Eaton motioned to a sheik.

"We would not interrupt the dance, or offend the hospitality of this
tent in any way. But that girl seems to be of our blood, and the dance
is strange to her. Would it not offend the marabout in whose honor you
dance to have a Nazarene take part? What is worship of the hands and
feet if the heart is not submissive too? I pray you, permit the girl to
withdraw."

The young Arabs cast hostile glances at us, but the sheik was
good-natured and was expecting rich gifts from the general. He called
the girl to him. She came quickly. He spoke to her in Arabic, and she
withdrew to an alcove.

"She is an adopted daughter of our tribe," he explained.

The famine lay heavily upon this people. Perhaps it was due to the
biscuits we offered this tribe that our interference with their
ceremony was not hotly resented. Perhaps, indeed, the famine was
responsible for their next move.

An old woman came out of the alcove that had hidden the girl and came
directly to General Eaton. "The fair-haired one is a trouble to me,"
she said. "We have given her food and shelter for many years, yet when
we speak to her of marriage, she weeps. When we tell her that we will
sell her to become a dancing-girl in the bazaars and cafes if she will
not wed one of our young men, she threatens to kill herself! Lovelier
damsels than she have gone into the harem, happy to have a lord who
will keep them from want. And there are worse lives than to dance at
the _fantasias_ of rich men, and to win the approval of the cafes. The
girl is ungrateful and a burden to us. Our own children are starving.
Give us money to buy food and take the unthankful girl!"

"Let the girl be summoned," said the general. She came forth, glancing
from the Sheik Abdullah to General Eaton with fear in her eyes.

"My girl," said the general through an interpreter, "these people have
offered you for sale. My purpose in buying you would be to find you a
good home, where you will be brought up in the way of people of your
color and race. Do you consent?" She looked at him as if she could not
believe her ears, then sobbed, then nodded earnestly.

"Done!" thundered the general, "I call on Sheik Abdullah to witness
that the offer has been made and accepted. I shall be liberal, too!
Tell me what price such girls bring at the slave-market in Murzuk and
it shall be paid."

The money was poured into the old hag's outstretched palms. The members
of her family gathered round to gloat over it. The young Arabs laughed
at the prospect of food. The departure of the girl in our company did
not cause them the slightest concern. Maidens are held cheaply in the
Sahara. A swift camel is worth more than a girl. What value has a
Nazarene maiden compared with food for one's own famished children?

The general, to shield the girl as much as possible from the curious
soldiers, gave her a tent where she dwelt alone, watched over by an old
Nubian woman who had become attached to our party in Egypt and had been
taken along for her value as a cook.

The general told a group of us briefly that the girl remembered little
of her early life. There was a vague remembrance of a mother who had
lived among these dark people. There came a day when she went out of
her life and a scolding Arab woman took her place.

The girl and her black servant traveled on donkeys. A young sheik, a
friend of the sheik, who had sold the girl to our party, joined Hamet's
forces at this village. I wondered if he had planned to add the maiden
to his circle of wives.


HAMET BASHAW LOSES HIS TEMPER

A courier from Derne met us here with news that Joseph's army was
approaching Derne. This caused a panic among our Arabs, and even Hamet
seemed to be in doubt as to whether it were wise to proceed. I was
forming a rather low opinion of his bravery, but tried to lose such
thoughts by thinking that if he were a hundred times less a man he
would be better than his brother. Some of the camel drivers fled. We
heard, too, that many of Hamet's followers were planning to turn back.
General Eaton again stopped their rations and ordered that no food be
served them until they marched forward. The general had a lion's heart
and was a born leader. Obstacles like these only served to bring out
his firm qualities.

The Sheik il Taiib was again the center of the revolt, since he had
resolved to go no farther until news arrived that our vessels were
awaiting us at Bomba. When General Eaton reproached him for his want
of courage and fidelity, he flew into a rage and put himself at the
head of such Arabs as would follow him, which was about half of our
force, and started back to Egypt. Hamet begged General Eaton to send
an officer to pacify him and persuade him to return, but the General
refused.

"We have paid him for his services," he declared, "and we have a right
to expect that he be faithful to his pledge; I will not permit him to
dictate measures to us!"

"But he may take part against us," pleaded frightened Hamet.

"Let him do it," the general answered, "I like an open enemy better
than a treacherous friend!"

We continued our march. Messengers then arrived from the rebellious
sheik, assuring us that he was really on his way back to Egypt.

The general sent word back to him: "I will take vigorous steps for the
recovery of the cash and property you have drawn from me by fraud!"

In a few hours a new messenger arrived with the information that the
Sheik il Taiib would join us if we halted to await his coming.

At last his caravan hove in sight.

"You see," he said to the general, to mask his defeat, "what influence
I have among these people!"

"Yes," returned the general, "and I see also the disgraceful use you
make of it!"

On the next day, the sheik having been quieted for a time, Hamet
himself again showed signs of turning back. Separating his Moslem party
from us, he took from our officers the horses he had loaned us for the
passage through the desert. When General Eaton reproached him for his
indecision and lack of perseverance, high words followed. We marched
on; Hamet turned back, but after two hours had passed he rejoined us,
complimented the general on his firmness, and said that he had been
forced to pretend that he was falling in with the wishes of his people,
so that he might in the end manage them.

The next day brought the same daily measure of trouble. Several sheiks
quarreled with Sheik il Taiib over the distribution of the money that
Hamet had paid them, and had quitted camp. We could not proceed without
them because they exercised a powerful influence over the Arab tribes
near Derne, whose support we were counting on. Hamet rode after them to
persuade them to be loyal to us, and in his absence Sheik il Taiib took
the stage again, demanding that the general issue more rations.

"Remember," he said threateningly, "You are in a desert, and a country
not your own! I am a greater man here than you or the Bashaw!"

The general retorted: "I have found you at the head of every commotion
which has happened since we left Alexandria. You are the cause of the
present trouble among the chiefs. Leave my tent! But mark: if I find a
mutiny in the camp I will put you to death as the man who produced it."

The sheik left the tent and rode away with other chiefs. A few hours
later, however, he returned and swore that he was devoted to the
general; that some secret enemy had told lies about him; that he would
even abandon the Bashaw to follow us; and hoped that at Derne he would
have the opportunity to show that he was a _man_.

Our next halt came when some of the Arab chiefs insisted on riding off
to an oasis called Seewauk for a supply of dates. They promised to
rejoin our party at Bomba. We halted to discuss the matter.

While this matter was being debated we visited an Arab camp nearby.
We found that the young men and women, although copper-colored, were
handsome and well-formed. The women did not veil, and were modest and
bashful in their deportment. The general complimented the wife of the
chief on her beauty. She smiled and said there were more beautiful
women in camp than herself and brought in a group of girls to prove it.
But the general gallantly held to his first opinion.

Our soldiers were fond of dates, and to secure them from the girls they
gave as payment the buttons on their uniforms, which the women strung
as ornaments about their necks.

We were fortunate enough to see a marriage in the Arab camp. Two camels
bearing canopies resembling wagon tops covered with Smyrna carpeting,
passed along, to the noise of volleys of muskets. The bride and groom
rode separately in these canopies, attended by elderly women, adult
unmarried girls, and by mounted Arabs.

The women chanted a savage kind of song; the men performed daring feats
of horsemanship, and young men and girls danced between the camels. In
this manner they circled their tents and our encampment. Then the camel
carrying the bride was driven seven times around a tent that had been
assigned to her. The animal was then made to kneel, the door of the
canopy was opened, and the bride was pitched headfirst into the tent,
where her women companions were reciting a benediction.

We were told that presents were expected. We gave a little money to
an old Arab woman who had taken the leading part in the celebration,
supposing her to be the mother of the bride. The general also invited
an Arab of about fifty-five years to his tent to receive an extra
present of provisions. Upon questioning the Arab as to the ages of the
bride and groom, we learned that he himself was the groom; that the
bride was a girl of thirteen years; and that the woman we had supposed
to be her mother was another wife of the groom.


THE ALLIES QUARREL

Now arose a crisis that threatened more than any of the previous ones
the success of our movement. Indeed, even the lives of all of the
Christian members of the expedition were at stake. When we had reached
a spot about ninety miles from Bomba, we found ourselves facing a
famine. We had only six days' rations of rice, no bread nor meat, nor
other ration. General Eaton was therefore anxious that we move forward
to Bomba as swiftly as possible, but Hamet, while the general was out
of camp, ordered the expedition to halt and announced that the troops
needed a day's rest. The reason for his act, we learned, was that he
might send a courier to see if our ships were indeed awaiting us at
Bomba.

The general stopped the rations when he found that his army had halted,
and Hamet, influenced by his Arab hosts, prepared again to march in a
direction away from Derne. The Arabs tried to seize the weapons of the
Christians, and General Eaton promptly called us to arms. We stood in
a row before the magazine tent, guarding our guns from those who would
use them to slaughter us. When the crowd had fallen back, the general
ordered us to proceed with our daily drill. Seeing this, an Arab chief
shouted:

"The Christians are preparing to fire on us!"

Hamet put himself at their head, with drawn sword, as if he feared that
such was our intention.

General Eaton stood firmly facing the threatening host of Turks and
Arabs. Around him clustered a little group: O'Bannon, Peck, Farquhar,
Leitensdorfer, Selem Aga, the Greek officers, and myself. I tried my
best to keep the gun in my hand from shivering, but the more I tried
the more my hand trembled. Two hundred mounted Turks and Arabs advanced
in full charge against us. The end was in sight. We leveled our
muskets. I thought of Alexander and the Rector and said a prayer.

"Do not shoot until all hope of peace is gone--then sell your lives
dearly!" General Eaton said.

The charging Arabs swerved and withdrew, but when we began to
breathe more freely, they came closer, and this time we could see
them selecting us as their targets. It did not seem that any of us
Christians could survive five minutes longer. An Arab youth snapped a
pistol at my breast. Providentially it missed fire. If one bullet had
been fired, war to the death between the two sides would have resulted.
A moment later we heard the command of "fire!" ring out from among the
Arabs.

"At the first shot, give them a volley!" General Eaton ordered.

At this critical instant, one of Hamet's officers ran out towards the
mutineers and cried: "For God's sake, do not fire! The Christians are
our friends!"

Then the general, although a column of muskets was aimed at his
breast, approached Hamet and demanded of him how he could support such
desperate acts. The Bashaw wavered. A chorus of furious whoops from the
Arabs drowned the general's voice. He waved his hand as a signal for
attention. In response, some of the more kindly disposed chiefs rode
before the Arabs with drawn sabres and ordered the infuriated tribesmen
to fall back.

The general again reproached Hamet for his weakness, and even Hamet's
chief officer asked the Bashaw if he had lost his senses. The latter,
in a fury, struck his officer with his drawn sabre. The fracas began
again and had nearly reached its former heat when General Eaton seized
Hamet by the arm and drew him away from his people.

"Can it be," the general exclaimed, "that you have forgotten who your
true friends are, and where your interests lie?"

Hamet melted. He called the general his protector and friend; lamented
that he lost his temper so easily, and ordered the Arabs to disperse.

General Eaton agreed to issue a ration of rice if the Bashaw promised
march would be resumed early the next morning. This pledge was made and
peace returned. Then we saw a sorry sight. At least two of the white
men had acted like cowards and had hidden themselves among the tents.
They now came slinking forth to stammer excuses that, you may be sure,
were received stonily by us. We again went forward, but after we had
marched twenty-five miles our rice became exhausted, and we were now
without rations.

With starvation threatening us, Hamet killed a camel, and also gave
one in exchange for sheep, that were also slaughtered. The meat,
however, had to be eaten without bread or salt. As we went on the
hunger increased, and we saw the Arabs searching the plain for roots
and vegetable substances on which they might subsist. A water famine
was almost always with us. At one time we were obliged to drink from a
cistern in which we had found the bodies of two murdered Arabs.

For the first time in my life I realized the meaning of such passages
of Scripture as:


     "The Lord is my Shepherd. I shall not want.
     He maketh me to lie down in green pastures;
     He leadeth me beside the still waters."


While facing yet another insurrection, this time of the gunners, a
courier arrived from Bomba with the news that our ships were off both
that place and Derne. This gave us new strength and courage and ended
the mutiny, and so at last we came to Bomba.

There, however, we found that the vessel that had been seen had
departed. The fat was in the fire again, with the Arabs abusing us as
impostors and infidels and threatening to leave us, if they did nothing
worse.

But oh, the resourcefulness of our general! Withdrawing with the
Christians to a high hill nearby, he ordered that a huge fire be
kept burning on its crest all night; the next morning as the Turks
and Arabs were scattering, to go to their homes, when the end of the
expedition seemed indeed to be in sight, we saw from the top of the
hill a sail. The United States' ship _Argus_, with Captain Hull in
command was approaching. The next day the sloop _Hornet_ arrived, laden
with provisions. We then refreshed ourselves and our famished army, and
unloaded from the _Hornet_ the provisions necessary to feed us on the
march to Derne.

The worst of the journey was over. We were approaching cultivated land.
To keep the inhabitants from becoming hostile to us the Bashaw sent a
herald through the camp to cry:

"He who fears God and feels attachment to Hamet Bashaw will be careful
to destroy nothing. Let no one touch the growing harvest. He who
transgresses shall lose his right hand!"

I now heard shrieks from the tent that sheltered the girl we had
rescued by purchase from the Arabs. I saw two camels standing beside
the tent, held by a young Arab who looked towards us furtively. It
flashed across my mind that the young sheik whom I had suspected of an
intention to add the girl to his household had seized upon the moment
when we were engaged in putting down a rebellion to kidnap the girl.
I rushed to the tent, followed by an Arab lad Mustapha, who also came
from the girl's village, and who had shown an humble devotion to her
by daily giving to the negress for the maiden a share of his ration of
dates.

As we reached the door of the tent the sheik emerged with the girl in
his arms. I jabbed the point of my pistol into his face while Mustapha
plunged earthward in an effort to stay his strides toward the camels.
The lad's attack was so vigorous that the sheik sprawled face downward
into the sand, while the girl, released by his stumble, fell into my
arms for support.

She was pale with terror and leaned against me like a broken lily.
General Eaton, having pacified Hamet and his supporters, came dashing
between me and the kidnapper, who had seized his knife and risen to his
feet. I still menaced him with my pistol, but the general forbade me to
fire.

"He richly deserves death," he whispered, taking in at a glance the
situation, "but to fire a shot would cause a general battle and the
defeat of our plans." He then turned to the scowling chief.

"Mount your camel and go," he said. "Hamet Bashaw wants no one in his
ranks who, under pretense of loyalty to a cause, comes to steal a girl
who despises him."

The Arab, without replying, mounted his camel and rode away with his
attendant. We saw a small group detach themselves from the main body
and follow him.

"A good riddance!" the general muttered. Then, seeing Mustapha, he
delighted the youth by saying, "You, my boy, are worth a hundred such
fellows!"

The Nubian woman, who had been choked into insensibility, now staggered
out of the tent and relieved me of my burden--one that I was none too
glad to surrender.

The girl murmured something to me in Arabic as she re-entered the tent,
including Mustapha in her glance. I looked at him questioningly.

"She said," the lad explained, "that her heart is overflowing with
gratitude to you and myself for rescuing her."

General Eaton ordered that the maiden's tent be continually guarded
after that. I managed to be selected for sentinel duty more often than
anyone else. Mustapha also stood guard with me. The girl sat in the
door of her tent looking up to the stars. With Mustapha interpreting,
we chatted. I told her about America and Baltimore and assured her that
once she was out of the desert, a happy life would open for her. She
asked shy questions about the girls of the United States--what they
wore; how they occupied themselves. I heard her and the Nubian woman
laughing when I said, rather abruptly, that I had not paid attention
to the looks and habits of girls at home. I taught her a few words of
English--"America," "ship," "friend," "good morning," and "good night."

When we reached Derne, a few days after the encounter I have described
took place, the girl went aboard one of the American warships. The last
I saw of her was when she stepped timidly into a cutter, assisted by
General Eaton. I stood on the shore watching. I saw her glancing back
at the shore and I am sure I saw a motion of her hand in response to my
furious waving. From that hour I began thinking of home more than I had
ever thought of it before. And Mustapha and I, when we walked back to
our tents, never spoke a word to each other the whole way.




CHAPTER XV

REUBEN JAMES SAVES DECATUR'S LIFE


The fleet had not been idle while we fought our way across the desert.
Letters awaited us at Bomba, brought us by one of the naval vessels.
A long epistle, with a thrill in every paragraph, was the combined
work of Samuel Childs and Reuben James. It gave an account of the
gallant way in which Reuben saved his idol Stephen Decatur's life in a
hand-to-hand conflict between the crews of our gunboats and those of
the corsairs. The part describing Reuben's part was written by Samuel,
and bore in the margin a sentence of protest scrawled by the modest
Reuben. Here is the story as I gleaned it:

The gunboats were sent in to attack the enemy's fleet in two divisions,
one led by Stephen Decatur and the other by Richard Somers. The Moslems
were past masters of this art of boarding. Decatur and Somers were
therefore leading their men to do battle with these ferocious fighters
under severe handicaps.

Our habit of boarding dismayed Joseph. He had thought that his men were
invincible in a fight on a ship's deck.

The mode of attack used by the corsairs was always by boarding. Their
vessels were so made that it was easy for them to go on board an enemy.
Their lateen yards were so long that they projected over the deck of
the vessel approached. The infidels used these as a passageway from
their vessel to the prize. Then, from all points of their riggings and
from all quarters of their decks, the pirates would leap on board the
attacked ship. That they might have free use of their hands in climbing
the gunwales of the vessel, they carried their sabres grasped between
their teeth, and had loaded pistols in their belts. As they swarmed
aboard, thus armed, they were a terrifying sight. They were taught
by their religion that if they died in battle with Christians their
salvation was assured, so they fought desperately. But Joseph, scornful
of America, without knowing what fighters her sons were, now found his
fiercest warriors slain by men who could board ship and give battle on
deck with even more strength and bravery than his own captains.

Decatur, who had charge of the foremost three boats, had to bear the
brunt of the fighting. Opposed to his three boats were nine Tripolitan
boats, well armed and crowded with men.

Reuben James was in Decatur's boat. The first gun Decatur fired was
loaded with a thousand musket balls in a bag. The shot wrought terrific
damage on board the vessel selected for the attack. The captain fell
dead with fourteen of the musket balls lodged in his body. Thus far
Captain Decatur had had easy work.

Lieutenant James Decatur, Stephen's brother, had commanded the second
boat. He had been treacherously slain. The Moor in charge of the boat
he attacked hauled down its flag at the first fire. James Decatur then
directed his men to board, but as his boat approached the Tripolitan
craft, the cunning captain shot Decatur dead, and while the dismayed
Americans gathered around their leader, the Moor hauled off his boat.

News soon reached Stephen of the loss of his brother and away he went
in vengeful pursuit of the slayer of James. He overhauled the boat and
led his men aboard in a fierce charge. Reuben was at his heels. The
Moorish captain was a powerful brute; he had all the weapons a man
could carry, and he was as desperate as a treed wildcat.

Stephen Decatur, however, went at his huge foe in a way that meant
death either to the Moor or himself. The infidel met Decatur's rush
with his pike, while Decatur depended on his sword. Reuben James was
busy disposing of an infidel. Before he tackled another, he looked to
see what headway the captain was making. Imagine how taken aback he
was to see Decatur staggering back from a pike stab in the breast. He
slashed his way towards his leader, but, as luck would have it, a shot
lodged in his right hand and a moment later a jab from a spear disabled
his left arm.

Meanwhile Decatur, nothing daunted by his wound, had brought his sword
into play. The blade, meeting a savage blow from the pike, broke off
at the hilt. Reuben saw Decatur dart in past the Moor's weapon, and
grapple with him. An Arab sneaked up in the captain's rear and aimed
a blow at his head. Reuben then threw his own disabled body between
Decatur and his second foe. The blow landed on his head, and he sank
to the deck crippled and half senseless. He could see Decatur and the
Moorish captain fall to the deck, with the infidel on top. The Moor had
one arm free and with it he drew a knife. Reuben closed his eyes. Then
he heard a shot and opened them again. In Decatur's hand was a smoking
pistol, and the slayer of his brother lay dead at the captain's feet.

From the rest of the letter I gathered facts that gave me a fair idea
of the progress of the campaign.

The third boat in Decatur's division was commanded by John Trippe,
sailing master. Trippe killed a Moorish captain in much the same manner
as Decatur slew his adversary. As he led his men across the side of a
Tripolitan vessel, his own boat was swept away from the side before all
of his party could board. Thus Trippe, with another officer and nine
men, was left to face thirty-six infidels. Trippe determined, as his
one hope of victory, to kill the captain, a man of great height and
strength. He came as near to death as did Decatur, receiving eleven
wounds. At last, when the Moor had forced him down so that he was
fighting with one knee on deck, he caught his foe off guard and stabbed
him to death with a pike. Fourteen of the infidels had been slain by
the Americans and the remaining twenty-two now surrendered. None of the
Americans were killed. Richard Somers, who commanded the other three
boats, was prevented from following Decatur along the inside route he
took, yet he found means to capture three Moorish gunboats and to sink
three others.

Reuben James passes out of my story here, but it is due him that I skip
several years and tell how when doctors were about to amputate, because
an old wound had diseased a bone in his leg, he exclaimed: "Doctor, you
are the captain, Sir. Fire away; but I don't think it is shipshape to
put me under jury masts when I have just come into harbor."

From other correspondence we learned how Commodore Preble, while
his gunboats were thus engaged, sailed into the harbor on board the
_Constitution_, with Captain Chauncey in command, and bombarded the
forts. The ship was excellently handled. Her crew tacked and made sail
under the guns of the enemy with as much coolness and skill as if there
were no guns trained on them. Several times the _Constitution_ passed
within three cables' length of the batteries on shore, and silenced
them. But the moment the frigate passed on, the silenced batteries were
manned again. The monarch had thousands of soldiers at his command and
continued to drive fresh gunners to the batteries.

On another day a Tripolitan fleet of five gunboats and two galleys came
out to attempt to capture or destroy certain gunboats of the American
fleet lying near the harbor. Commodore Preble signaled to the brigs and
schooners under his command to meet the raiders, and these ships poured
such a hot fire upon the Moslem flotilla that they were forced to turn
back.

The grape-shot fired by the Americans during these engagements swept
the enemy's decks of men, and worried the gunmen on shore so badly
that it spoiled their aim, so that the _Constitution_ was but slightly
damaged, and had none killed and only one man wounded.


THE DEATH OF SOMERS

Now, came news of the tragedy of the campaign. It was decided to use
the ketch _Intrepid_ as a fireship to destroy the enemy's shipping.
Captain Somers volunteered to take command of her, and Lieutenant
Wadsworth volunteered to go with him. Ten men went with them--six
volunteers from the _Constitution_ and four volunteers from the
_Nautilus_. Two small boats were taken, so that the party could escape
from the floating mine after they had lighted the fuses. The _Intrepid_
started upon her perilous duty on September 4th. Lieutenant Joseph
Israel of the _Constitution_ arrived at the moment of getting under way
and asked permission to go along. Somers consented.

The night was dark, and the other American ships soon lost sight of
the ketch. She was discovered, however, by the Tripolitans as she was
entering the harbor, and their batteries opened fire.

Suddenly, the night was lit by terrifying flashes. A series of
explosions shook land and water. A shower of sparks arose. The powder
on board the _Intrepid_ had prematurely exploded, and left nothing on
the face of the harbor but scorched fragments. All of her officers and
men were killed. Their mangled bodies floated ashore and were found by
the people of Tripoli.

What caused the explosion remains a mystery. Commodore Preble thought
that the _Intrepid_ had been attacked and boarded by a Tripolitan
gun-boat, and that Captain Somers, rather than be taken captive,
himself exploded the powder; or else that the fire from the batteries
caused so much damage that Somers saw that escape was impossible and
chose death to surrender. This reasoning was partly based on the fact
that Somers and his men had boasted that they would die rather than be
captured. The squadron was greatly affected by this tragedy. Decatur
had special reason to grieve, because Somers had been his schoolmate,
and had given Decatur, before sailing, tokens to remember him by if he
did not return.

I learned with amazement that Commodore Preble had been recalled.
Although he had conducted a fight that had won for the American navy
lasting glory, the navy department had thought it best to call him home
and to put Commodore Samuel Barron, who was his senior, in his place.
Commodore Preble was notified of this with much praise and apology. No
wonder was it that his going was lamented. His fifty-three officers
joined in a letter of regret. English officers praised his work. The
Pope said that "the American commander, with a small force and in a
short space of time, had done more for the cause of Christianity than
the most powerful nations of Christendom had done for ages."

The Commodore had labored under great handicaps. Congress had not
supported his requests for ships and supplies, and those that came
were long delayed. The food sent him was poor. He was forced to depend
largely on foreign seamen.

Commodore Preble was deeply regretful at not being able to carry the
campaign against Tripoli through to final victory, and also mortified
that, with success in sight, he should be recalled. He went home an
almost heartbroken man, although his record must stand out as one of
the most brilliant in our naval history.

If the bold Preble had continued in command of the squadron, there is
little doubt that when he saw what Eaton was doing at Derne he would
have begun an attack on Tripoli that would have brought Joseph Bashaw
to his knees.

The one good reason advanced as to why General Eaton's expedition
should have ended at Derne was that if it approached Tripoli, the
Americans held prisoners there might have been killed by Joseph Bashaw
when his city was attacked. He threatened that, in an extremity, he
would slay the prisoners. Several of the officers who were in captivity
held this fear. Yet Commodore Rodgers wrote afterwards to the Secretary
of the Navy:

"I never thought myself that the lives of the American prisoners were
in any danger." Lieutenant Wormely, a midshipman held in captivity,
also testified before a Senate committee that: "I do not believe that
there was any danger to be apprehended for our lives."




CHAPTER XVI

WE CAPTURE THE DESERT CITY OF DERNE


     "_An army, composed in part of Americans, but chiefly of the
     descendants of the ancient Grecians, Egyptians and Arabians; in
     other words, an army collected from the four quarters of the
     globe, and led by an American commander to conquest and glory,
     is a phenomenon in military history calculated to attract the
     attention of the world, not only by its novelty, but by its real
     influence and consequence. It ought to be considered, too, that
     this army, notwithstanding the singularity of its organization and
     character, and the smallness of its number and its means, acted in
     a cause that might be thought to affect, at least in some remote
     degree, the general interest of mankind. Since the destruction of
     Cato, and his little senate at Utica, the banner of freedom had
     never waved in that desert and barbarous quarter of the globe; and
     he who carried it so nobly, in the language of the resolution,
     through the desert of Libya, and placed it so triumphantly upon
     the African shore of the Mediterranean deserves to be honorably
     distinguished by that country and that government, to which the
     enterprise has added lustre._"

     --Speech made by James Elliott, Representative from Vermont,
     before the House of Representatives.


Every step we took, I could tell by the rector's map, which now I
daily consulted, was taking me to that section of the coast where the
treasure lay buried. We had hard fighting ahead of us, and all of my
energies were needed to help our cause, yet I was determined to find
enough time to make the search. The problem of finding a trustworthy
person who could read for me the Arabic inscription on the map had
been solved through my friendship with Mustapha, who had acquired a
fair education in Egypt. I planned to go to Tokra under his guidance.
My plans worked out well, but in a different way from that which I
proposed.

The first duty ahead of our army--a task that must be done before any
treasure hunt could be thought of--was the capture of Derne. The city
of Tokra lay beyond Derne. Our army, if it went on to Tripoli, must
pass near it. The coast was clear--if Derne were captured by us. Little
did I think that the ill fortunes of our soldiers should send me forth
at last to fulfill my long-cherished aim.

Two days after leaving Bomba, we camped on a height that overlooks
Derne, and reconnoitered. We had reached the climax of our march. We
learned that the governor of the place had decided to defend the city
against us. We learned also that the army Joseph Bashaw had sent from
Tripoli was making a forced march to Derne and might arrive before the
return of our vessels, which had been blown out to sea in a gale. This
information alarmed the Turks and Arabs. Hamet, we observed, again
seemed to be ready for flight. The Sheik il Taiib, who had promised to
prove himself a valiant man at Derne, quitted the camp.

Several chiefs came out from Derne to assure Hamet of their faith. They
told us that the city was divided into three departments; that two
of these favored Hamet and one Joseph, but that the department that
favored Joseph was strongest and had control of the guns.

General Eaton had sent a messenger to the governor under a flag of
truce with this message:


     "I want no territory. With me is advancing the real sovereign
     of your country--give us a passage through your city; and for
     the supplies of which we shall have need, you shall receive fair
     pay. Let no differences of religion induce us to shed the blood
     of harmless men who think little and know nothing. If you are a
     man of liberal mind you will not hesitate. Hamet Bashaw pledged
     himself to me that you shall be established in your government. I
     shall see you tomorrow in a way of your choice.

     "Eaton."


The flag of truce was sent back to the general by the governor with
this answer:

"My head or yours!"

"We shall see whose head it will be!" General Eaton declared.

Having learned that the army from Tripoli was only a four hours' march
distant, the general determined to attack the city before it had time
to arrive.

On the next morning the _Argus_, _Hornet_ and _Nautilus_ appeared off
the coast, and on a signal sailed in toward the city. The general at
once began the assault. The fleet sent a few guns ashore to assist
us in the land attack, and then the three vessels opened fire on the
city's batteries.

The Governor of Derne had mounted a battery of eight nine-pounders
along the water-front; had thrown up breastworks along the unprotected
parts of the city; and had mounted cannon on the terrace of his palace
and on the roofs of certain buildings. We heard that he possessed an
army of eight hundred men, in addition to such citizens as would fight
with him.

General Eaton, with a detachment actively commanded by Lieutenant
O'Bannon, consisting of the six American marines, twenty-four gunners,
twenty-six Greeks, and a few Arabs, attacked the temporary forts that
had been thrown up in the southeast section of the town. Hamet Bashaw
attacked and captured an old castle on the southwest, and drew up his
cavalry on this site. I fought beside the general, and a stiff business
it was. The enemy's musketry was so warm that our troops were thrown
into confusion. To counteract this, the general ordered a charge. The
enemy had flocked to the point where we advanced, so that we had to
fight as ten to one. The infidels waged a guerrilla warfare, dashing
out of their hiding-places and then, in retreat, firing from behind
every palm tree and wall along their way.

The battery was at last silenced by the fire of our ships, and most of
the gunners retired to join the forces opposed to us. Yet on we went,
passing through a shower of bullets from the walls of houses. Soon we
reached the battery, and wrested it from its defenders. I had the honor
of planting, amidst cheers from my comrades, the American flag on the
wall--an honor indeed, since this was the first time the American flag
had been raised on a fort of the old world. Then we turned the guns on
the infidels and drove them back into the houses, where they could only
fire at us from behind walls.

[Illustration: THIS WAS THE FIRST TIME AN AMERICAN FLAG HAD BEEN RAISED
ON A FORT OF THE OLD WORLD.]

Our ships, which had suspended their fire during our charge, now
resumed bombarding the houses that sheltered the governor and his men.

The deadly fire of the ships terrified the already faint-hearted forces
there, and they began to flee in disorder. Hamet's troops captured
the governor's castle, and his cavalry pursued the flying foe. By four
o'clock in the afternoon we were in full possession of the city, the
action having lasted about two hours and a half. Of the Christians
who fought there were fourteen killed and wounded. Three of these
were American marines; two dead and one wounded. The rest of the dead
were Greeks. Our Grecian allies showed great bravery and were worthy
descendants of the ancient heroes of their race.


THE GOVERNOR FLEES

The governor fled first to a mosque; then to the abode of an old sheik.

"I must lay hold of him!" General Eaton said. "He is the third man in
rank in the entire kingdom of Tripoli, and we can use him to exchange
for Captain Bainbridge!"

The general, in great zeal to take the governor captive, now marched at
the head of fifty Christians with bayonets to that remote section in
which the fugitive had found refuge. The aged chief who sheltered him,
however, vowed that the laws of hospitality would be violated if he
permitted us to take the governor, and refused to yield him up to us.

General Eaton explained that the Governor had rejected peace terms; had
challenged us and been beaten at his post; was still in a conquered
town, and was by all the laws of war a prisoner. The sheik remained
firm.

The citizens of Derne began to look at us with hostile eyes.

"The Christians no longer respect the customs of our fathers and our
laws of hospitality," they exclaimed.

Hamet Bashaw, fearful that the people would be turned against him if
we seized the governor against the old sheik's wishes, persuaded the
general to postpone the attempt.

We had been in possession of Derne about a week when the army sent from
Tripoli arrived and planted their camp on the ground we had occupied.
Meanwhile, General Eaton had fortified the city as strongly as possible.

We found ourselves facing enemies within and foes without, because the
people of the town, true to their nature, were now debating which army
would be the most likely to win, so that they might be on the victor's
side. The late governor, we learned, was the leader in trying to
persuade the people of the city to revolt against us.

On May 18th the troops from Tripoli advanced towards the city in order
of battle, but when General Eaton marshalled his forces to meet them
they halted, conferred, and then retired. We found out later that
the Beys in charge of the enemy's forces had tried day after day to
persuade the Arabs under them to attack. They had refused, stating that
Joseph Bashaw must send them aid before they would attempt to conquer
the city.

"We have," they said, "not only our lives to preserve, but also the
lives of our families. Hamet has possession of the town; his Christian
allies possess the batteries; these, together with the great guns of
the American ships, would destroy us if we attacked!"

The Beys then demanded of the Arabs that they permit their camels to be
used to protect the front and flanks of the assaulting forces, but this
too was refused.

Word came to General Eaton that Hassien Bey, commander of the enemy's
forces, had offered six thousand dollars for his head, and double that
sum if he were brought as a prisoner. We heard also that thirty dollars
had been offered for the head of an ordinary Christian.

Then there came to our camp a Bedouin holy man who had previously been
befriended by the general. He whispered that two women, one in our
camp and one in Derne, had been employed by Hassien Bey to poison our
commander. In payment for this service they had already been given
presents of diamond rings. The saint cautioned the General not to
accept any presents of pastry, preserves or fruit.

A few days later, the forces of Hassien Bey gave battle. He was
assisted by Muhamed, Bey of Bengazi; Muhamed, Bey of Derne, and
Imhamed, Bey of Ogna. Under them were one thousand mounted Arabs and
two thousand Arabs on foot. On the night before, Muhamed, the former
governor of Derne, had escaped into Hassien Bey's camp, and had told
him that our numbers on shore were far less than the general had
supposed. Encouraged by this information Hassien Bey ordered the attack.

About nine o'clock in the morning his troops appeared, under five
standards, and attacked about one hundred of Hamet's cavalry, who had
been stationed about a mile from town. The cavalry fought bravely but
were forced to retreat. The _Argus_ and _Nautilus_ trained their guns
on the enemy, and we in town bombarded them with our battery and field
pieces, but by taking advantage of walls they penetrated the town up
to the palace that sheltered Hamet. Here they were met by a hot rifle
fire from Hamet's supporters, but they held their ground stubbornly,
determined to capture Hamet.

The general was wondering whether with the small force in charge of
the battery he dare risk a sortie to defend Hamet, when fortunately a
shot from one of our nine-pounders killed two mounted enemies near the
palace.

Instantly they sounded a retreat and fled from all quarters. Hamet's
cavalry pursued them. In their flight they again came within range of
our ships' guns, and these poured into their ranks a galling fire.

We were told later by an Italian slave who escaped from their camp
that they had lost twenty-eight men killed and that fifty-six of their
number had been wounded by our fire.

This defeat took the heart out of the Arabs supporting the Beys.
Officers and soldiers began to desert to us from the enemy, and when
Hassien Bey began to prepare for another assault by collecting camels
that would be used as traveling breastworks, the Arabs recruited on the
march refused to take part. They protested that they would have been
willing to fight under ordinary circumstances, but that the Americans
were firing balls that would kill both a rider and his horse, and that
they would not expose themselves to such shots. They also complained
that we rushed at them with bayonets, and would not give them time to
reload their muskets!

Hearing these reports our fearless general tried to persuade Hamet to
make a counter-attack, but without success. Skirmishes continued to
occur. A few days after the battle, a company of the enemy attacked
some Arab families who had camped in the rear of the town. Learning
of the attack, the general headed a party of thirty-five Greeks and
Americans, with a view to cutting off their retreat. We met them in a
mountain's ravine--the Greeks must have thought of the Spartans at
Thermopylae--and charged them with our bayonets. They broke and fled,
hotly pursued. We killed their captain and five men, and took two
prisoners. None of us were injured.

This affair put Hassien Bey in a frenzy. The next morning he came
forward to revenge his cause, but again the Arabs mutinied and
retreated, leaving Hassien and his soldiers to follow in humiliation
back to their camp.

Hamet Bashaw had his turn at open fighting a few days later, and
acquitted himself far better than we expected. The enemy appeared in
great numbers on the heights overlooking the town, seeking a way to
descend that would not expose them to the fire of our guns. They found
a pass and started to descend to the plain below, but here Hamet's
cavalry met them and, as reinforcements joined each side, the battle
increased in size until there were five thousand men engaged. The
fighting lasted four hours, during which Hamet held his ground like
a true general. It was a battle fought in the Barbary style, for the
field of conflict was beyond the range of our batteries, and we were
rejoiced to learn that the victory belonged to Hamet. The enemy lost
fifty men killed, and had over seventy wounded, while of the forces
of Hamet, the killed and wounded amounted together to about fifty. We
had lost respect for Hamet during our march across the desert, but his
gallantry in this engagement restored confidence.

Lieutenant O'Bannon was eager to lead our Americans and Greeks out
to hold the pass by which the enemy must retreat with our bayonets,
but the general decided wisely that it would be unwise to leave the
batteries undefended, since Hamet Bashaw's forces might suffer a
reverse.


THE CAMPAIGN BLOCKED

Our prolonged stay at Derne had begun to worry both the general and
Hamet. I saw them frequently conferring with great seriousness, and
heard General Eaton say that if the aid, money, and supplies had come
which he hoped would be awaiting him at Derne, he might now be at Cape
Mensurat, and in fifteen days after, at Tripoli.

My wonder as to what there was being discussed by the general and Hamet
Bashaw was cleared away somewhat by the arrival of a spy from the
enemy's camp, who informed us that a courier had arrived, eleven days
from Tripoli, with dispatches from the reigning Bashaw stating that
he intended to make peace with the United States, _even if he had to
sell his wardrobe_ to do so. This was a great change of front; a change
caused, we all felt sure, by our conquest of Derne, and by our openly
avowed determination to capture Tripoli in the same manner.

Then there came a letter from Commodore Barron which informed General
Eaton that the United States must withdraw her support from Hamet,
since Consul Lear was making a peace with Joseph.

The general wrote hotly in reply: "I cannot be persuaded that the
abandoning of Hamet is in keeping with those principles of honor and
justice which I know actuate the national breast. But, if no further
aids come, and we are compelled to leave the place, humanity itself
must weep; the whole city of Derne, together with numerous families
of Arabs, who attached themselves to Hamet Bashaw, and who resisted
Joseph's troops in expectation of help from us, must be left to their
fate; havoc and slaughter must follow; not a soul of them can escape
the savage vengeance of the enemy; instead of lending aid to the
unfortunate people, we involve them in destruction."

The general wrote also in protest to the Secretary of the Navy, stating
that when Commodore Barron agreed to cooperate with Hamet there was
no talk of the latter being used as a means of making peace with the
reigning Bashaw; that nothing was talked of but punishment. The example
of Commodore Preble, he stated, had fired the squadron which relieved
him with an ambition to punish Joseph, and it was in the same spirit
that he, General Eaton, was sent on his mission to bring Hamet to the
rear of the enemy.

Shortly after these letters were dispatched, we had occasion to march
through Derne.

"Long live the Americans! Long live our friends and protectors!" the
people shouted.

The general bowed his head in shame.

General Eaton, in the opinion of all of us who marched with him, and
of many with whom I afterwards talked, could well complain of the way
he was treated by the United States Government. He had won at Derne a
victory that many thought was superior to the naval victories won over
Tripoli, and by his campaign had opened the way for a peace that saved
the United States the payment of hundreds of thousands of dollars in
warships and tribute money. Yet he had been allowed to enter upon his
enterprise in such a manner that if successful the Administration would
receive full credit for sending him, while if he failed, he could be
blamed for acting without authority.

At Tripoli, peace was being made after this manner: Colonel Lear,
then at Malta, received a letter from the Spanish consul at Tripoli
asking him to come to that place under a flag of truce, as the Bashaw
wanted to discuss peace. A few weeks later Captain Bainbridge wrote to
Commodore Barron that the Tripolitan minister of foreign affairs, Sidi
Mohammed Dghiers, who was opposed to the war, was about to leave the
city, and that it would be well to send an envoy to treat for peace
before the minister left.

Colonel Lear sailed from Malta on the _Essex_, which joined the
blockading frigates _Constitution_ and _President_ of Tripoli. The
white flag hoisted by Lear was answered by the hoisting of a similar
flag on the Bashaw's castle. The terms agreed upon were that the United
States was to pay him $60,000 for the ransom of the American captives
remaining after an exchange of prisoners, man for man, had been made;
that the American forces should withdraw from Derne, persuading Hamet
to go with them; and that in the course of time Joseph was to restore
to Hamet his wife and children.

The articles were signed on board the _Constitution_. A salute of
twenty-one guns was then fired by the Bashaw's battery and answered
by the _Constitution_. The people of the city crowded to the wharves
celebrating the making of peace. The released American officers and
sailors ran to the wharves to leap into the barges that were to take
them out of the hated town.

Sage men have predicted that the historians of the future would say
that Colonel Lear acted unwisely in making the peace, and that if he
had delayed for a few weeks, until bomb vessels and gunboats on the
way from America had arrived, a squadron would have assembled before
Tripoli that would have frightened the Bashaw into agreement with any
terms the United States' fleet chose to lay down. That we should have
had to pay ransom for the American captives at Tripoli after we had
captured the powerful province of Derne, and with such a strong fleet
in the Mediterranean, was not in accord with American traditions.

The act of Colonel Lear in making peace with the reigning Bashaw seems
to have been for the purpose of blocking Eaton's triumph. "Eaton," said
an officer holding a high place in the Mediterranean squadron, "was
running away with the honor of the Tripolitan war. Between an army and
navy jealousy is common. What had the navy done long before, after the
achievement of Preble? Hence the readiness to snatch the first chance
for peace."

The politics of the matter gave me little concern. Here was General
Eaton needing money. With money he could hire Arab tribes, buy caravans
loaded with food, march on to Tripoli. Here was my opportunity, and my
duty.




CHAPTER XVII

THE TREASURE TOMB


Through all my adventures in the desert campaign, from the time when
we first faced the hot, choking winds of the desert and covered our
eyes to keep from being blinded by the sand until the time when we
lifted the Stars and Stripes on the ramparts of Derne, the thought of
the treasure tomb had dwelt with me. According to the rector's map,
the buried chamber was within an hour's ride by camel of Tokra, a town
located between Derne and Tripoli, quite near to the former.

The coast of northern Africa jutted out into the Mediterranean at this
point, and made it a favorable spot for settlement by Phoenicians and
earlier races who ruled this sea.

When I perceived that Captain Eaton's campaign against Tripoli had
been blocked through lack of funds and that he himself had given up
hope of receiving from our naval officers the money and supplies
required to proceed against the stronghold of Joseph, I resolved to
begin my treasure search in earnest, hoping to turn the gems and gold
to the general's use. I resolved to take Mustapha along as my guide.
The attachment that had sprung up between us grew stronger as the
weeks passed. He was an Arab to the backbone. He could run all day
in the heat and fall asleep at night on bare stones. He was as quick
and noiseless in his movements as a wildcat, and his mood was a
queer mixture of gentleness and fierceness. Having adopted me, he was
fiercely jealous, and his brown face would become convulsed if strange
Arab boys from any of the camps we passed tried to follow me.

One night, on swift camels which we borrowed from Mustapha's sheik, we
rode away from Derne. It was a foolhardy enterprise, because Joseph
Bashaw's army lay between us and Tokra, yet we managed to avoid their
outposts and when morning broke we were well beyond their lines.

I had not taken the general into my confidence. He might have told me,
to keep me from going on what he would consider a wild goose chase,
that he would not avail himself of the gold, even if it were found.
I felt too, since the rector had tried so hard to keep the facts
concerning the treasure a secret, that I should not reveal it, even to
those I trusted most.

We joined ourselves to a caravan as we approached Tokra. Mustapha had
acquaintances among the camel-drivers, and his explanations created for
us a kindly reception. Mingling thus with the Arabs, we rode into Tokra
without attracting the attention of the people. That this was fortunate
for me, I was soon to find out. A larger caravan had entered the town
a few hours before us. Its people had thronged the cafés. As I rode
through the narrow street, holding my hood well over my face to keep
from being recognized as a hated "Nazarene," I caught sight of a tall
well-dressed Moor watching a group of dancing girls. His brilliant robe
attracted my attention, then something familiar about his figure made
me observe him more closely. My gaze traveled up his burly form to his
bearded face. I could see it only in profile, but the sight was enough
to set me to trembling. I had recognized Murad.

He did not see us. In the café before which he lounged were girls of
the Ouled-Nahil tribe, dancing. We could see over the heads of the men
these stately creatures gliding and twisting to the music of clarionets
and tam-tams. Their mountainous head-gear of plaited wool, bound by
brilliantly-colored silk kerchiefs shook with the movements of their
bodies. We could hear amidst the music the jingling of their bangles. I
saw also a boy bring a live coal in a pair of tongs to Murad, so that
the latter might light his long pipe.

A score of questions flashed through my mind. Had the Egyptian found
the treasure, and was he now enjoying the wealth? Or had he been
detained as I was in reaching this spot, and could it be that he had
been a member of the newly arrived caravan? Did he mean to spend the
night amidst the luxury of the café or would he soon come forth to hunt
for the treasure tomb?

I decided from his manner that he had newly arrived, and that, for a
few hours at least, he would smoke his pipe and drink his coffee and
watch the dance. During those few hours I resolved to push my search.

When we found a spot in which I could examine the map without being
observed I was puzzled to find that the location of the treasure tomb
was set down as being not outside of the city, but in its very midst.
Through Mustapha, I made inquiry of an old Arab. Yes, he said, in reply
to my questions, there had been a temple there once. The reason the
ruins could not be seen now was that successive tribes of Arabs had
come and camped on the ruins until the soil and filth they had left
behind them had covered the floors. There had been walls, but they
were now used for sheep folds, goat-yards, poultry-yards, donkey-sheds.

The rector's exploration had been made also at night. The upper tomb
he had found was known to everyone. It too had probably held riches,
but it had been plundered centuries since. None of the later tribes had
thought to look beneath it. The rector would not have had the curiosity
to explore if it had not been that in Greece a scientist had discovered
there double layers of tombs hewn out of the rocks.

Mustapha then translated to me the words written in Arabic at the foot
of the diagram:


     "Walk along the north wall of the town until there rises from
     the mud-huts and cattle-sheds a stone pillar that lifts about
     eight feet above the surrounding roofs. This pillar will mark the
     location of a tomb that is still respected as a holy place by
     the people of the town. Under the floor of this tomb, lies the
     treasure chamber. Its entrance is through the outer wall, where I
     dug out a stone. Pry along south wall below ground till triangular
     slab is found."


Past clusters of mud-huts, dirt-heaps, piles of broken pottery, and
odorous cattle-sheds we groped. The dogs barked and ran snarling about
our feet, but Mustapha had magic words that soothed and hushed them. At
last, against the star-filled skies, we saw a rugged pillar lift up.
The huts and sheds stopped at this point, and for several rods there
were no buildings. The loneliness of the spot I took as a good omen. It
meant that I could dig with little fear of disturbance.

From the town came sounds of singing and shouting. Drinking and dancing
and merry-making were engaging the people. With these unceasing noises
drowning the clink of our spades, we began to dig.

The dirt and debris was loose, and our arms were winged by excitement
and fear. I had told Mustapha that I expected that he should earn
enough money on this trip to give him a university education at Fez,
enough to make him respected as a sheik. Under the enchanting prospect,
and for love of me, he toiled.

After ten minutes of digging, I took my dirk and felt along the side
of the wall which we had uncovered. My dirk's point entered a crevice.
We dug again, frantically, and now I was able to trace all sides of
the loose block of stone that acted as a bar to the entrance. Mustapha
brought out his knife and aided me in the prying, and between us we
managed to move the stone outwards as if it worked on hinges. I thought
of the Arabian lad who entered the retreat of the Forty Thieves. I too
had found an "Open Sesame" to riches. Were my eyes also to be dazzled
by the sight of treasure?

The finding of the entrance, though it made me solemn, also created
something of a sense of security, for now we could continue our search
underground without attracting attention. One fear, however, still
lingered, and moved me to frantic haste--Murad's coming!

We lowered ourselves a depth of six feet into the rock room. The clammy
moisture chilled our faces; the foul smell choked us. Lifting our
torches, we peered into the darkness.

When our eyes grew accustomed to the gloom we found ourselves standing
among several skeletons, which had the appearance of having been
hurriedly buried. This discovery almost led us to a panicky retreat,
but I had risked too much to be turned from my quest by skeletons, and
I stepped across the bones and thrust my torch into the center regions.
There, buried in oblong chambers rudely hewn out of the rock floor of
the cavern, I saw six bodies that had moldered to dust. Girding their
bones, however, was jewelry such as I had never, even in my wildest
dreams, imagined.

Upon the time-blackened skulls were headbands of gold. Covering the
rib-bones were massive breast-plates of the same metal. As I held down
my flame the delicately-wrought patterns of rosettes and palmettos with
which these pieces were ornamented flashed out brilliantly. Upon the
wrist-bones hung loosely serpent-shaped gold bracelets. From this rich
metal dress jewels flamed out to match my beacon's fire.

Around these rock tombs lay more treasures--inlaid daggers with images
of cats engraved on their gold handles and with lotus patterns traced
on their blades; alabaster cups, hollowed out and painted inside with a
brilliant red; stone images of elks with heads of silver; jugs and cups
of ivory, alabaster, amber, silver, gold, and porcelain.

Scholars have since told me that the ancients considered that the
station of a person in the world of the dead depended upon the wealth
with which he was buried. The people who buried these corpses had
assuredly done their utmost to insure the eminence of their friends in
the dominions of death. I did not pause to wonder whether these were
the remains of Phoenicians, Egyptians or of a still earlier race that
had dominated the Mediterranean and exacted toll of treasure from the
surrounding barbaric tribes. Here the bodies lay. Above them, through
the centuries, strange peoples had settled and passed; caravans had
stopped and hurried on; dancing girls had whirled; dervishes had
practiced sorceries, yet none dreamed of this cool tomb with its
riches. The stuff was here for my taking. Murad was hard on my heels.
My lust for fortune overcame all thoughts of reverence for the dead.

"Open the sacks, Mustapha," I said, "the smallest treasures are the
most valuable. We will take what we can carry and trust to fortune for
a chance to bring out the rest--or perhaps they will fall as crumbs to
Murad!"

"Listen, master," Mustapha whispered. Men's voices came to us. I sprang
in terror towards the entrance with Mustapha at my heels. As I peered
out into the night my breath came again. The tinkle of camel bells came
to reassure me. A caravan was entering Tokra, with no suspicion that
they were passing within a stone's throw of such wealth.

The capacious sacks loaded, I climbed out of the tomb by making a
stepping-stone of Mustapha's back. He hoisted up to me the three bags.
I then leaned down and pulled him out. It was about midnight.

"Go to the stables," I said, giving him a coin, "and tell Achmet the
camel keeper that urgent business takes you back to Derne. Bring our
camels--Achmet knows that they belong to you. Put the gold into his
palm. Tell him that you are on business for Hamet Bashaw, who may
conquer Tokra next week!"

"I know that he sympathizes with Hamet," Mustapha assured me. "He will
help us, and keep his tongue!"

While Mustapha was gone, I replaced the stone door and shoveled back
the dirt. Mustapha returned with the camels. They knelt as we loaded
the sacks upon them. Around them we piled the bags of dates that had
already formed the camels' freight. We turned towards Derne and rode
like the wind.

Many hours would pass, I reasoned, before Murad would begin his
search. If then he suspected that the tomb had been robbed and made
inquiries, many more hours must pass before he could start in pursuit.

As things happened, however, it was not from behind us that danger
came. We came into the vicinity of Derne at nightfall, and drove our
jaded camels as fast as we could make them fly, fearing always an
encounter with the soldiers of Joseph Bashaw. We succeeded in gaining
the city's bounds with no adventure except passing through a volley
fired at random by guards whom we passed too swiftly to permit them to
arrest us, but as we rode through the town at gray dawn we observed no
signs of our troops.

We learned from old Omar, an inn-keeper who came drowsily out to open
for us, that the ship _Constellation_ had arrived bearing orders to
General Eaton to quit Derne at once, since Consul-General Lear had
concluded a peace with Tripoli. He told us that General Eaton and all
of the Christians in the party, together with Hamet Bashaw and his
suite, had embarked on the _Constellation_ in a secret manner, for fear
that the people of Derne, and their allies, the Arab supporters of
Hamet, would attempt to massacre the party when they found that the war
had been abandoned and that they were left to the mercy of Joseph.

Omar described how, when General Eaton had barely gotten clear of the
wharf, the soldiers and citizens of Derne had crowded down to the
shore shouting prayers to the general and Hamet not to leave them to
the mercy of Joseph's soldiers. Finding their pleas of no avail, the
soldiers had seized the horses the party had left behind, plundered the
tents of the departing officers, and fled towards Egypt.

After this occurrence a Tripolitan officer, a messenger from Joseph
Bashaw, had landed from the _Constellation_ under a flag of truce,
bearing a message to the people of Derne that Joseph Bashaw would
pardon all who laid down their arms and renewed their allegiance to
him. Joseph's troops were to begin the occupancy of Derne that morning.

Omar shook his head.

"For myself, I fear nothing. Allah is good. Under his guidance I
remained loyal to Joseph. The returning Governor will know that Omar is
faithful. But as for my neighbors--let them not trust too much in the
Bashaw's promises. If I had fought on Hamet's side I should flee to the
mountains!"

Mustapha and I exchanged worried glances. Here we were abandoned by our
friends and facing capture by Joseph's soldiers when they entered the
city. In that case, our gold and jewels would go to adorn the greedy
Joseph's throne. The main object of our treasure search, to provide the
general with funds to continue the expedition, could not be carried
out. There was nothing to do but flee--but where? From the camp of the
enemy came sounds of soldiers assembling. The triumphal entry would
soon begin.

"Cavalry! Mount! Escape!" cried Mustapha.

From a distance, swiftly coming nearer, we heard the sound of
hoof-beats. Around the corner of the inn came a blaze of color.
Galloping steeds were suddenly reined in. A Moorish officer, splendidly
uniformed, came towards me. Mustapha, who had stood several yards away,
began to lead his beast and mine down towards the river front.

"Alhamdulilah! (Praise be to God)" he sang, "My lord the Bashaw
returns to his own! The cowardly usurper Hamet has fled before Joseph
Bashaw's brave warriors!"

The troopers gave Mustapha but a fleeting glance. My head was uncovered
and they saw that I was an American.

There was a whispered conference. American warships might be still in
the mists that hid sea and shore. I had hopes that they would pass me
by unmolested. Instead the officer turned to his men.

"Bind the Nazarene! One at least of the Christian dogs shall pay the
penalty of starting rebellion against our worshipful ruler!"

I was bound hand and foot, thrown across a camel's back, and led out of
the city, to the enemy's camp.

In the possession of an Arab lad, who was now as a lamb among wolves,
were the gold and jewels I had risked so much to secure. One gem of
the collection would have purchased my ransom, but knowing that a hint
as to the contents of the sacks would lead to the loss of all of the
treasure, I resolved to suffer slavery before I spoke of them. I prayed
that Mustapha would keep the secret, yet how could I expect that fate
would not reveal the contents of the sacks to covetous eyes?




CHAPTER XVIII

SOLD INTO SLAVERY


My captor, the Moorish officer, was a native of Ghadames, an interior
city of Tripoli--a caravan center located on a camel route to the
Soudan. I was regarded by him as the spoils of war, and his purpose was
clearly to sell me for a good price in an inland slave market where
there would be no American consul to make inquiries. As soon as Derne
was occupied, Joseph's army disbanded and the soldiers whose property
I was began to journey to their homes. Our caravan started too, and I
found myself riding upon the most uncomfortable camel in the outfit,
chained by one wrist to the trappings of the beast.

I decided to lose no chance to escape. I knew that the farther inland
I went, the more difficult it would be for me to reach the coast. My
thoughts dwelt upon the treasure-bags I had last seen flopping through
the streets of Derne on Mustapha's camels. I swore that my Arab comrade
would see me again soon--and I devoutly hoped that his ingenuity would
enable him to hide the treasure.

At last, when I was beginning to despair of falling in with a
coastbound caravan, we met a huge one bound from the Soudan to Tripoli.
In the excitement of meeting, and in the feasting and dancing that went
on between the two parties, my guard forgot me. I had been unshackled
while I ate, and the only sentinel over me was a young Arab who had
been stationed at the front entrance to my tent. I saw him looking
yearningly at the Arab girls who were dancing. I snored loudly and
regularly, watching his movements through the opening. Suddenly he
disappeared. A moment later I vanished too. I hoped to escape with the
Tripoli-bound caravan, and stole over to where its camel-drivers were
gathered. I had made my color as dark as possible, and wore my long
gown in true Arab fashion. I had learned, too, some common Arab words.

In the center of the crowd I saw an African snake-charmer. The fakir's
round, fleshy face shone like polished ebony, and when he grinned,
which was often, I caught sight of two massive rows of gleaming ivory.
He wore nothing but a breech-cloth and sandals. His body was covered
with scars. These snake-charmers, I had heard, inflicted wounds upon
themselves, sometimes through religious frenzy, and sometimes because
it gave them prestige with their audiences.

This fakir influenced the people much in the same way that a street
evangelist at home attracts listeners by music and loud words. In his
train were several men who played cymbals and bagpipes. As soon as they
began clanging and blowing upon these instruments, the crowd gathered.

I drew back, for fear that the fakir's attentions to me would lead
to discovery, but his eyes had singled me out from the minute of my
approach, and he followed me, though not in a way to attract notice.

Alarmed, I was about to make a wild dash into the desert when he caught
my arm. I drew back to strike.

"The saint Mohammed," he said, catching my arm, "will harbor an
escaping Nazarene so long as the Nazarene is willing to clang the
cymbals loudly in the name of Mohammed, and is active in collecting
coins when the snakes have done squirming and the tales have been told.
Two of my attendants have deserted me. I offer you a trip to the coast
in my train."

I nodded assent--any port in a storm!

"Bring forth the cymbals! Mohammed is welcome to any music I can make
with them!" I said.

"Pay close attention to my motions and when I signal you, collect what
coins you can. If any man question you, pretend to be dumb."

He led me into his tent close by, procured for me a coarse robe that
was an effectual disguise and applied a pigment to my skin. When he was
through with me I looked like one of his own tribe. I went forth then
and mingled with the throng, listening while Mohammed told tales in
Arabic.

Fascinating indeed were Mohammed's tricks. I watched in astonishment as
he shaped a bundle of hay into a mound and covered the pile with water.

"By the grace of Mulai Ali, my patron saint," he said, "I give this hay
to the flames and command these serpents to respect the commands of the
Prophet's servant!"

With these words, he emptied a bag of snakes on the ground. They looked
deadly as they wriggled about his feet and twined themselves around his
body. I was told that their poison had not been removed, yet he held
the head of the serpent that looked the most dangerous so close to him
that its fangs almost touched his lips.

With feats of this nature, and with many tales, my new patron won his
audience, and collections were easy to make. What I gathered pleased
him and I had the feeling that I had for the time earned a right to his
protection. I was safely housed in his tent when men came to search
the oasis for me, but when they inquired of him he called down curses
on them for causing the thought of a Nazarene to cross the mind of a
child of the Prophet.

We departed with the caravan bound for the coast. The Moorish officer's
soldiers inspected us closely, but Mohammed kept me closely engaged,
and arranged my hood so that I was dimly seen by the watchers. I
escaped even a challenge. We stopped at frequent oases, where Mohammed
entertained and I collected.

But now, perhaps because the matter of my disguise handicapped him;
perhaps because he feared punishment for harboring an escaped slave;
perhaps from greed, Mohammed betrayed me. When we were a day's travel
from Tripoli, we fell in with a small coast-bound caravan that had lost
one of its camels and needed a beast of burden to take its place. I
became that animal!

On hearing Achmet, the chief of the caravan, offer a large sum for
a beast of burden, Mohammed's eyes lighted on me. "There," he said,
"is a sound-bodied Nazarene slave that will do the work well. He has
served my purpose and since I have saved him from being sold as a slave
in the interior, he should not carp at my selling him to you. Take
the Christian dog, and may you lead him to become a true follower of
Mohammed!"

I was thus hurled into the ranks of Achmet, whose blood-shot, piercing
eye and hawk nose gave him a cruel look in keeping with his character.

"The Christian dog belongs to no country," Mohammed told the people
to whom I sought to appeal. "He is a cur who has been helping the
troublesome Hamet Bashaw to stir up a rebellion against our noble
ruler."

These words enraged the crowd against me, and seeing how hopeless was
my state, I slunk away, kicked and slapped, to take up my burden.

Fortunately, this caravan too was bound for Tripoli. I expected that
there I would have a chance to lay my case before the American consul,
and hoped to secure through him freedom and permission to sail back to
Derne in search of my treasure sacks.

Loaded with as much of the camel's pack as I could stagger under,
I followed in the camel train. When camp was made, I was forced to
scramble among the dogs for my share of the scraps thrown to them by
the camel-drivers.

When we reached Tripoli I was driven, closely guarded, to dark quarters
on the outskirts of the town, and threatened with death if I tried to
escape. I found out that the American consul was at Malta on business
that had arisen out of the making of peace with Joseph Bashaw. My case,
therefore, seemed almost as hopeless as when I was first captured.

These cities of Barbary are strange affairs. The streets wind in and
out between white walls. You go under shadowy arches; you climb here a
dozen stairs and a little later go up an incline without stairs. The
streets are usually too narrow for camels or carts, so that porters
and donkeys do most of the hauling. A swarm of people pass continually
up and down these cramped ways. The Moslem women wear silken street
garments (haicks) that conceal the finery beneath. The faces of these
women are covered with a fine silk veil, and underneath their haicks
may be seen their bulging Turkish trousers.

When I asked why the women wore veils, I was told that the custom had
come down from the time the Christian crusaders invaded the Moslem
countries; the attention they paid to the wives and daughters of the
Turks led to the followers of Mohammed prescribing the veil for their
women folk.

Among the streams of people were Jews talking trade, consoling
themselves for the insults by the Mohammedans with the thought of the
profits they were making in their dealings with the Moslems; European
envoys; rich, lazy Moors; camel drivers; black slaves; soldiers in the
Bashaw's service, and sailors employed by the corsair captains. Lame,
halt and blind beggars sat by the roadside, beseeching gifts.

"In the name of Allah, give us alms!" a beggar wailed from almost every
corner and doorway. The men they solicited were usually rich Moors who
wore turbans of fine cloth and richly embroidered vests. Yet often they
would select for their target a camel driver from the desert, clad in
his coarse gray baracan.

Here stood a fountain surrounded by Arabs and negroes drawing water in
gourds and jugs; yonder a dozen women sat on the ground, selling bread.
Hooded Arab boys romped on the outskirts of the throng, or recited
verses from the Koran to a bearded teacher. Lean cats and dogs were
everywhere. All kinds of smells filled the air--garlic, burning aloe
wood, fish.

I stood one day in an archway six feet wide that stood in the center of
four streets and watched the crowd go by. I saw fish-mongers carrying
great baskets of sardines, and strings of slimy catfish, against which
the crowd brushed, leaving the dirt and smell of the fish on their
garments. Girls with boards on their heads filled with dough ready for
baking darted in and out among the throng; donkeys, laden with garbage,
ambled alongside of donkeys carrying fresh roses. Jews, burdened
with muslin and calico, went from door to door, haggling with those
who examined their wares through partly-opened doors. Boys sauntered
along munching raw carrots and artichokes; girls of eight carried on
their backs babies wrapped in dirty rags. The little mothers and their
charges seemed never to have seen soap and water, but from hair to
anklets they were decked with faded flowers.

Blind people--there were hundreds of them--walked along as boldly as
if they had eyesight, leaving it for those who could see to get out of
their way.

"_Balek_ (out of the way)!" was the cry of everyone. "_Emshi Rooah, ya
kelb_ (clear out, begone, you dog)!" was a cry I had grown accustomed
to through hearing it hurled at me countless times, for was not I a
member of


     "A sect they are taught to hate
     And are delighted to decapitate."


The upper stories of the houses projected over the lower, and, because
of the narrow street, the houses that stood opposite each other almost
met, so that all one could see of the sky in many places was a bright
blue chink overhead. The walls were all whitewashed; here and there
a beautiful gateway appeared. One could not tell from the exterior
of the houses whether rich folk or poor folk dwelt inside the walls,
yet beyond many of these dark corridors leading through the walls
were beautiful garden courts, with silver fountains playing and an
abundance of flowers and trees, while underfoot were tiles of various
rich colors.

Of the many mosques I passed I can tell nothing, as Christians are not
allowed to enter them. Neither were we allowed to dress in green or
white--for these are the colors of the prophet.

My new master, still using me as a beast of burden, took me several
times to the house at which he lodged. I was thus able to get a glimpse
inside a Mohammedan home of the middle class. We went through a
whitewashed tunnel till we came to a gate from which hung a huge brass
knocker.

My master did not use the knocker. He began to pound on the door in the
Arab fashion. A veiled woman peeped over the terrace wall and screamed
a question at him. His reply reassured her, and we were admitted to
a little square court that was neatly paved with red tiles, through
which ran a path of marble lined with oleanders and fig trees. Rooms,
white-washed and blue-washed, opened on this court. The owner of the
house, Fatima, was a widow, who lived with her old father, and earned
her living by embroidering and weaving. She wore the white silken veil
as we entered; but as she gossiped with my master she pulled it aside
and showed her brown, dumpling face. She wore an embroidered jacket and
silk pantaloons, along with gold trimmings and jewelry--an array that
seemed so strange to me that I kept my eyes fastened on the ceiling
while I was in her presence. She had rented one of her small rooms to
my master, whose parents she knew. Fatima spent much of her time on the
roof of her house, looking down on the street over the walls of her
terrace. The roofs or terraces were used by women alone and most of the
visiting between houses was done by climbing across the walls dividing
the houses.

For privacy, Fatima dropped a flimsy curtain over the door of her
room, and this barrier was as strictly respected by her household as
if it were a strong door. Visitors were received in the parlor. Fatima
and her guests sat on a divan covered with cushions and drank coffee.
Handwoven carpets and draperies were everywhere.

The beds of the household were mattresses spread on the floor. One
blanket often covers an entire family in the houses of the poor. Fatima
fell sick while we were under her roof, and sent a woman friend to a
holy man for a remedy. I discovered that the medicine was nothing more
than a slip of paper containing the words "He will heal the breasts of
the people who believe."

Fatima was ordered to chew and swallow the paper. The widow still
complained of illness after swallowing this dose, and was ordered by
the marabout to write a verse from the Koran on the inside of a cup;
then to pour in water till the writing was washed away; then to drink
this water, which was supposed to have in it the virtue expressed in
the verse. I followed my master out of Fatima's house greatly amazed at
this kind of medical treatment, but I did not wonder at hearing that
she had complained that her aches were increasing.


THE SLAVE MARKET

Achmet had now no further use for me and decided to sell me as a slave.
I was driven, chained, to the slave market. This auction place was in
a large square. All around it were little booths. These were crowded
with spectators. Through the center of the bazaar ran a walk. Most of
the slaves that had been brought to the market for sale were women and
girls. Among the Moors it was thought no evil to deal in human flesh. A
black woman with children was first sold. One could tell by the way she
clung to her brood that she feared she would be separated from them. We
saw her face light when one of the Moors who was squatting on the edge
of the walk bought the entire family.

A boy came next. He was handled by prospective buyers as if he were a
horse. His eyes, mouth, teeth and nostrils were examined. The first
Moslem who inspected him must have seen some defect in the lad, for he
waved him away. The auctioneer then seized the boy and led him up and
down the walk before the Moors in the bazaars, shouting his good points.

Most of the girls were blacks or mulattoes, brought from the interior
of Africa by Arabian traders. There were a few white girls among them.
Each girl or woman was handled in the same manner as the boys had been.
Some of the maidens boldly returned the stare of those who inspected
them. Others shrank from their inspection and, when possible, covered
their faces with the woolen haicks they wore.

This slave market reflected only a small part of the slave life of the
city. I saw men and women of all classes huddled together in dark,
dirty prisons, praying their countrymen would send money to ransom them.

Those whose relatives were not rich enough to buy their freedom were
sold to various buyers and set to work at all kinds of labor. The
owners often made use of their slaves to earn them money. The old
slaves were usually sent out to sell water. Many a drink have I bought
from these water-carriers, as, dragging their chains, they led their
donkeys through the streets and sold water from bags of skin that hung
across the backs of their beasts. Some of my other acquaintances among
the slaves acted as messengers or house-servants; others were employed
as herders, drivers or plowmen--I have even seen a Christian slave
yoked to a plow with an ox for a yoke-fellow.

Once, while inland, I saw coming out of the Soudan a score of slaves
fastened together in a long wooden yoke that had many holes cut in it a
few feet apart to admit the heads of the slaves. If one of these slaves
fell sick or grew too weak to walk, he would hang from this yoke by
his neck, with his feet dragging. As much as he suffered himself, his
condition added to the sufferings of his yoke-fellows, for they had to
bear his weight. I heard that if he seemed likely to die before the
slave market was reached, his master would cut his head from his body
with one knife stroke--it saved halting the procession to remove the
sick man from the yoke.




CHAPTER XIX

THE ESCAPE


Murad in Tripoli! There he stood, stroking his beard and gazing at me
with glittering eyes as I was hauled past him to the auction-block.

A fierce Arabian trader, who was forming a caravan to go into the
Soudan, bid for me. Murad offered more. I was torn between my terror of
being sold "up-country" and of being bought by the Egyptian, who would
probably apply torture to wring from me the story of what had become of
the contents of the treasure tomb. The Arabian, scowling at Murad, made
a still higher bid, whereupon Murad increased his offer. The trader
gave me a few final digs and slaps, as if to see if I had the sinews
and endurance to warrant his paying a higher price; then he shook his
head, cursed me for a Christian dog, and passed to the next slave.
Murad came forward. I was pushed into his arms and then thrust by him
into the rough hands of his two Moorish attendants.

The Egyptian told me curtly that he had purchased from the Algerines
a ship they had captured called the _Hawk_, which he meant to use as
a merchant vessel under the protection of the Bashaw, and that he had
bought me for service on board of her.

"I am buying out of these slave markets a crew of European sailors," he
said curtly. "Remember that we are now master and slave. Where I once
befriended you, now I will compel you to wear chains and be subject
to the lash. The American consul to this port is now in Malta; we will
sail before he returns; place no hope in him. I want you to search your
memory and be prepared to tell me every move you made since I left you
aboard _The Rose of Egypt_. I shall soon question you upon certain
happenings in the desert about which you doubtless have knowledge!"

My eyes fell before his piercing gaze. "I see I have struck home," he
said, "I can question you better aboard ship. Go! Report now to my
mate, MacWilliams."

Under the charge of the two Moors, I was sent aboard the _Hawk_. She
was a staunch, graceful, roomy vessel, built on the Clyde out of the
best materials--a ship that reflected credit on the Scotchmen who made
her. I said to myself, as I viewed her admiringly, that she was far too
good a ship to be in such vile hands. For all of Murad's threats, my
spirits rose as I felt her deck under my feet. Here I was among white
men, and decent fellows they appeared to be. Here I had a dozen chances
to escape, while if the Arabian trader had gained possession of me,
only a miracle could have rescued me. As for Murad, if he tortured me,
I meant to leap overboard and attempt to swim to safety.

The mate, William MacWilliams, was a big, raw-boned, lantern-jawed
man. He received me with kindness and pity. I heard that, under threat
of death, he had denied the religion of Christ and had embraced the
faith of Mohammed. Murad seemed to place great trust in him. The
Egyptian had become, it seemed, too important a man to be a mere ship
captain--perhaps his experience on _The Rose of Egypt_ had brought
about this state of mind--and he left all matters in charge of the
mate. He himself had much business to transact at court, and things
occurred to postpone his questioning of me until we were almost ready
to sail.

Since my chains were the badge of my slavery, no watch was kept on me
as I went to and fro on errands for those who were outfitting the ship.

William MacWilliams interested me greatly. I had heard that there were
many renegades of his type in Barbary. I have been informed that the
word renegade comes from the Latin word _nego_, which means "I deny."
Some of these men had become turncoats to save their skins; others had
become renegades because the Moslems, poor sailors themselves, were
glad to employ Christian sea captains, and gave them opportunities to
live luxuriously and become rich.

MacWilliams wore a most melancholy expression. For all his supposed
devotion to the religion of Mohammed, I came upon him one day reading a
pocket Testament.

"It is a book that has sublime characters in it, my lad," he said in
an embarrassed fashion. Then he turned and looked towards a mosque
on shore. "There is but one God, and Allah is his prophet!" he said
piously. I looked around, surprised at the change in his attitude. Then
I saw the reason. The commander of the Turkish soldiers quartered on
board the _Hawk_ had passed our way.

I could not fathom MacWilliams. Yet, understanding something of the
temptations a Christian faced in Barbary, I tried to be charitable in
my judgment towards him.

Meanwhile, I became a carrier of supplies, threading my way through the
motley throngs with my back bent beneath coils of rope, carpenters'
tools, and ship's stores.

While on one of these errands I had a curious adventure.

I tried to go through the streets without giving offence to any
Mussulman, as I feared a cuffing or even the bastinado.

I soon learned that it was the so-called "saints" that were the most
dangerous to Christians. The Arabs, while they will themselves refrain
from showing the contempt they feel towards Christians, nevertheless
will reward and praise one of the holy men for abusing us.

A tall scantily clad negro, of the type of Mohammed, was the most
fanatical and the most dangerous "saint" I met. He was begging alms at
the entrance to a courtyard when he saw me passing. He carried a staff
in his hand which he used principally to strike Jews and Christians.
It was not the stick that troubled me, but instead the habit he had
of spitting in the face of Christians. As he peered into my face,
detecting my Christian features despite my attempt to disguise them,
I saw his mouth moving as if he were preparing to attack me after his
vile custom. I hurried out of his range, and escaped the spittle. My
quickness enraged him, and he called after me in Arabian. I had heard
the words often enough to know that they meant:

"Dog of a Christian, may your grandmother roast! Why shouldst thou
avoid the spittle of a saint? It would be the only thing blessed upon
thee, seeing that it came from the mouth of a saint!"

I darted down a side street and into a doorway, hoping to rid myself
of the pest, but he followed quickly and caught sight of my place of
refuge.

"Dog of a Christian," he cried again, poking me in the chest and ribs
with his staff, "why do you offend Mohammed by treading the same ground
as true believers?"

My blood mounted as I smarted beneath his cudgel. I decided that I
would fare just as well by resisting as by submitting, so I ducked my
head and dived into the stomach of the fellow, upsetting him. This
turned out to be, in the eyes of the Moslems, a great sacrilege. It
appeared that while the alleged holy man had entire freedom to beat
me, I had committed a crime by doing violence to his body. He made a
tremendous uproar as he rose from the dust, and the noise drew a crowd
that began to pummel me. I plunged deeper into the doorway, and, having
seized the stick of the marabout, whirled it before me in a vigorous
fashion. A storm of stones and sticks beat upon me.

While I was on my knees, expecting a rush that would trample me to
death, I suddenly heard a familiar voice above the shrieks of the mass.

"Dogs of the desert, how dare you trouble the slave of a good
Mohammedan? This Nazarene is the slave of my master, friend of the
Bashaw! Is my lord a Jew or a Christian that you would destroy his
property before the eyes of a witness? The slave was assaulted first. I
swear by the Prophet that he is a gentle slave, and intended no injury
to the holy man. Off with you before I call the soldiers of the Bashaw!"

The crowd dispersed. Grumbling, the marabout departed.

I looked into the twinkling eyes of Mustapha. Snatching the marabout's
staff from my hand, he began to pelt me across the shoulders. "It is
necessary that I do this," he whispered, "the people are watching."

I went through the crowd with Mustapha belaboring me and shouting:

"Dog of a Nazarene, how dare you risk your body, for which my master
paid a great sum, in a fight with a holy man?"

When we reached a place where our talk could not be overheard, I burst
out: "The treasure sacks, Mustapha? Do not tell me that the Moors have
them!"

"The bags are safe, oh David," he assured me, "but fret not if you
are not able to open them till you return to America. After you were
captured, I hurried to the waterside. There I saw the cutter of _The
Morning Star_, a vessel of the American navy. I unstrapped the sacks
and put them in the boat, pointing out to the sailor in charge the tags
you had tied around their necks."

This information dumbfounded me. The fact that I had been careful
enough to tie to the necks of the sacks tags from our own naval stores
seemed to promise now delivery of the sacks to a safe place--if they
were not ripped open and plundered meanwhile. This was not liable to
happen in view of the pains I had taken to ward off curiosity. Upon
each tag I had written plainly:


         ARCHAEOLOGICAL SPECIMENS
            to be delivered to
      Rev. Ezekiel Eccleston, D.D.,
         Rector of Marley Chapel,
              Baltimore, Md.

          Sender: David Forsyth,
     With American Military Expedition
            in Libyan Desert.


"If the men who handle the bags respect either the navy or the
ministry," I said to Mustapha, "the treasure will be safe. But how can
I be sure that the sacks were received on board the ship?"

"I saw the bags lifted over the side, oh, thou of little faith,"
Mustapha reproved me, "and the boat did not return to the dock. A
few hours later _The Morning Star_ sailed for America. Allah favored
you--my tribe moved this way when Joseph Bashaw's soldiers took
possession of Derne, and thus I came to prevent your blood being
spilled in the streets of Tripoli!"

"I want to reward you with the biggest gem in our collection," I said,
"but how can I do it when our fortune is at sea?"

Then a thought came to me. "Mustapha," I said, "I mean to escape from
the _Hawk_ and board a ship bound for England or America. I have
learned from the mate that a servant boy is needed on the _Hawk_. If
you like, I'll recommend you for the place. You must pretend not to
know me. If the owner of the _Hawk_ discovers that you know about the
treasure, he'll probably cut your throat? Can you swim?"

Mustapha nodded. "I'll dive overboard if he bothers me!"

"Come then," I said, "we'll follow our riches to America, and you shall
return home a great sheik!"

His tribesmen had returned to the desert, and he was free to act for
himself. Quite without fear, he followed me aboard. I spoke a good word
for him to MacWilliams, and before long he was peeling potatoes in the
galley. If I had thought that Murad would recognize him, I should have
given my right hand rather than have invited him to share my luck; I
did not know that my meeting with Mustapha had been observed by Murad,
and that I was leading the lad into danger.

All too soon came the interview I feared with my owner. One day Murad
came aboard the _Hawk_, entered the cabin, and sent for me. The tiger
was about to show his claws. I was not greatly frightened, for I
reckoned that he would need me in his plans to gain possession of the
treasure.

"Now, you scheming dog," he said, "let's not beat about the bush. Your
guardian told me once of a treasure tomb hidden in the desert. You know
the story. Perhaps you know, too, how I came into possession of the
rector's secret. When at last I was able to uncover the tomb, all of
the relics worth taking had vanished. Don't try to look innocent: you
were my cabin boy on board _The Rose of Egypt_. The reason you enlisted
with me so readily was that you wanted to find the chart and get a
chance at the treasure at Tokra. I found that someone had entered the
tomb a few hours before me. Two strange young Arabs had been seen near
the spot. I choked a stablekeeper until he described both rascals. One
of the two Arabs was you, eh? Tell me where the trinkets and jewels
are! If your tongue is stubborn, a red-hot iron may cause it to move.
What did you find? Tell me what you took away! Speak up--the way to
save yourself from the torture you well deserve is to put me on the
track of the treasure!"

There was nothing to be gained by secrecy, and much to be suffered, so
I described the trinkets and gems in a way that made his eyes sparkle
and his fingers quiver. He snarled and showed his wolfish teeth when I
told him that the treasure sacks were on their way to America.

All of a sudden I was knocked down by a blow from his fist. He stepped
across me and called to a sailor in Arabic. After the lapse of a
minute, the door of the cabin was thrown open, and Mustapha was thrust
in by a Moslem guard. He had been seized in the act of diving over the
side.

"Is this the young devil that led you to Tokra?" Murad thundered at me.

"Yes," I said, "but he went only as my guide and knew nothing of why I
went. He has done nothing to merit punishment."

Under a volley of threats, Mustapha was commanded to tell all that he
knew of the treasure tomb. He looked at me with frightened eyes; yet
his lips remained sealed.

"Tell all, Mustapha," I said, "it will free you, and it will be no more
than I have already told."

His story, as he stammered it, agreed with mine in every particular.

Murad strode up and down the cabin, swearing in Arabic and English.
Then he shot questions at both of us concerning _The Morning Star_.
When had she sailed from Derne? What was to be her next port? Was she
fast? How many men and guns did she carry?

When Mustapha had answered as well as he could, Murad booted us out of
the cabin. "I'm not done with you, miserable curs," he cried. "I'll
need you when I board _The Morning Star_. Then for all the trouble
you've caused me, I'll sew you up in the bags and drop you overboard!
If you can think of a way of getting those bags you'll do well to send
for them as your ransom. If I don't get them, you----" He drew his
finger across his throat with a horrible gesture.

He now sent for MacWilliams and gave him sharp orders.

The next morning, after a day of hurried preparation, the _Hawk_
sailed.

The ship had an armament of ten cannon, and carried an abundant supply
of ammunition and provisions. A company of Moorish soldiers were on
board of her. What was the _Hawk's_ mission? Were we Christians to be
used in enslaving other Christians? Was the _Hawk_ a ship whose mission
fitted her name? Was she to be a pirate ship seeking Christian vessels
as prey, and would we be made to fight and to help enslave men of our
own religion and blood? Questions like these concerned the Christians
among the crew, and I for one prayed that I would have the courage to
jump overboard if there came a moment when I was driven to do such
deeds.

On our first day out, I made bold to unburden myself to the mate.
MacWilliams eyed me gravely. "You are not to ask questions. You are
to do as you are told. What happens on board this ship shall be on my
conscience."

He walked off, leaving me no more clear about the matter than I was
before. I saw the Danes and Italians talking earnestly in their
languages, and I knew that what was worrying me was also troubling them.

MacWilliams was master of navigation, but had no authority over any
other activity aboard ship. There were about forty Moslems aboard who
took no part in sailing the vessel. In charge of them was Murad, who
had command over the entire ship and told MacWilliams the direction
in which he wanted the ship to sail. I learned that he had directed
MacWilliams to sail to certain ports outside of the Straits, where he
hoped to fall in with _The Morning Star_.

The master gunner was an English renegade named Watson, who had charge
of the guns and ammunition. The commander seemed to think that European
gunners were better than Moors, because among the gunners under Watson
were several Christian renegades. I found myself wondering whether, if
all of the men aboard of Christian or former Christian faith were moved
by the same desire to escape, they could not overcome the Mohammedans
and capture the vessel. Yet, having observed that some Christians when
they adopted the Moslem religion grew as fanatical in their devotion as
did the most extreme worshippers, I decided that it would not be safe
to whisper such a suggestion to anyone.

It gave us entertainment while we were performing our tasks to watch
the peculiar customs of the Moslems. Our greatest source of amusement
was a professional wizard the Moors had brought with them. He had a
book of magic, and when the commander was in doubt as to which course
to take, the dark-skinned humbug would open his book and advise him
according to the wisdom he drew from its pages.

When the wizard's advice was passed on to MacWilliams, he said
nothing by way of dissent, but proceeded to steer and set sails as
his own judgment and experience dictated. The Moslems, who had no sea
knowledge, and were lost when they were out of sight of land, made
no effort to find out whether the mate was following the magician's
counsel.

Our fears as to what sort of work we were about to enter upon soon
became certainties. On our second day out we caught sight of a large
schooner and gave chase. Her crew, rather than surrender, drove the
ship ashore and fled along the coast. The men Murad sent in boats to
plunder the vessel brought back several guns, some gold, and such
wearing apparel and furnishings as took their fancy. The sight of
the gold brought back to my mind my own lost treasure. Between the
prospect of attacking Christian vessels and the remembrance of what I
had already suffered, I spent my night watches in great distress of
mind, a state which was in no way soothed by the thought that around me
lay Christian slaves racked by the same thoughts.

On the next day we sailed boldly through the Straits and out into the
Atlantic Ocean. As we were making the passage through the Straits,
we discovered a sail. I feared that it was _The Morning Star_. It
proved, however, to be an Algerine corsair. We spoke to each other and
separated.

We headed north, past Cape St. Vincent. It puzzled me that Murad would
permit MacWilliams to take the ship so far from the Mediterranean. It
was a dangerous undertaking for the corsairs, but the _Hawk_ was an
unusually speedy ship, and I supposed that Murad was depending on her
swiftness to escape any hostile warships that he might meet.

A great homesickness came upon us as we passed into the Atlantic. It
was intolerable to think of returning to the Mediterranean and the
dreadful shores of Barbary when the coasts of Europe were almost in
sight. I thought often of the girl who escaped from the desert and
sailed to America.

Sometimes Murad's lieutenant grew angry with some of the Moors, who
were slow in carrying out his orders. To spite them, he showed favor to
such Christians as happened to be near.

"Bon Christiano! Bon Christiano!" he called endearingly. The next hour,
however, the wind would change. He would stroll along the deck followed
by the very Moslems he had reviled, and if he found any of us at fault
about our work he would bid his Moors knock our heads together. He was
afraid to carry these tyrannies too far, for MacWilliams was prone to
look upon him with a look that warned him that the Christian sailors
were too valuable to Mohammedan safety to be abused too far.

One night, while I was on watch, MacWilliams approached me. His hand
rested on my shoulder with a fatherly touch that moved me greatly.

"The time has come when I need your help," he said. "I intend to take
this ship to England despite her crew of Mohammedans. If the plan goes
through, every Christian slave aboard the _Hawk_ shall step upon the
earth of Europe a free man. I've been watching you. I believe you agree
that it's better to risk death than to go on leading such a life. There
are other slaves who think the same way. What do you say, lad?"

"Just you try me!" I said. "I owe the infidels a score that can hardly
be wiped out. Besides, hasn't the skipper threatened to sew me in a
sack and toss me overboard? Of course, you can trust me, and Mustapha,
too!"

"Lad, lad," MacWilliams went on, "we English blame the Turks, yet we
have been reaping the fruits of what our own race has sowed. The story
has passed down to me, through generations of seafaring ancestors, of
how when good Queen Elizabeth passed and when the English and Spaniards
ceased for a time their warfare at sea, hundreds of sailors who had
fought in bloody battles under Drake were at a loss for employment and
found it in piracy.

"Down to the Mediterranean they went and entered the service of these
evil Moors. It was our forebears who taught the Moslems how to become
good sea-fighters. It was men of our own race who first led the Barbary
corsairs forth on buccaneering expeditions. What our forefathers
started, some of us have carried on, but the time has come to end it
all!"

Continuing, for we had an idle hour to pass, and the mate was desirous
of heartening me for our desperate undertaking, MacWilliams told me of
how in 1639 William Okeley, an English slave, had constructed in the
cellar of his master's shop a light canoe made of canvas, making oars
from the staves of empty wind pipes. This craft he and his companions
smuggled down to the beach, and five of them embarked in it and made
their way safely to Majorca. The hardest part of the enterprise was
their farewell to two other English slaves who were to have made the
voyage with them, but who were found to overweight the little boat.

"With the help of Gunner Watson," MacWilliams explained as I drew him
out as to his plan, "we should be able to trap the Moslems between
the decks; get control of the cannon and powder, and sail the ship
into some European port. It'll be turning the tables in fine style--a
Christian crew bringing infidels as captives to an English harbor!"

He proceeded to set forth his plan in detail. "By to-morrow," he
concluded, "I shall know every trustworthy man. I shall then give
each man a definite part. Such a way of escape has been in my mind
for years. A man with a Presbyterian conscience can never remain
a Mohammedan. If our plot succeeds I shall make a contribution to
the church of my fathers that I hope shall to some extent offset my
wickedness!"

Mustapha carried food from the galley to Murad. MacWilliams told me
that it was essential to the success of the plot that Murad be made
too ill to note the direction of the ship. The mate was skilful in
Oriental medicines, and he produced a phial containing a liquid that,
while tasteless, yet had the power to nauseate and weaken a man.
While Mustapha obligingly turned his back, and while I kept guard,
MacWilliams poured the fluid into Murad's broth. The Egyptian was taken
with what seemed to be chronic sea-sickness and kept to his cabin. I do
not think he suspected that his food had been "doctored." He ordered
MacWilliams to sail close to certain ports and to pursue any vessel
that was not plainly a warship.

I told the mate something of the treasure tale--enough for him to know
that Murad was in pursuit of _The Morning Star_--and at whatever port
it seemed safe for us to stop, MacWilliams brought aboard reports
that there was a richly laden vessel bound for America that might
be overhauled before we reached the next Atlantic harbor. Thus we
continued steadily away from the Straits.

Once an encounter with a strange warship came near to upsetting
our plans for capturing the _Hawk_. MacWilliams and Watson, being
renegades, were afraid to meet the captain of any European warship, for
fear that they might be recognized and treated as buccaneers. Knowing
their minds, I watched the outcome of the chase with intense interest.

I happened to be the lookout for that day, and had reported a strange
sail ahead.

MacWilliams climbed the mast to a place beside me and adjusted his
telescope. Then he went down and approached Uruj, Murad's lieutenant.

"She is well to windward----I doubt if we can pass her!" the mate
reported.

"Why should we try to pass her?" Uruj said insolently.

"'Twill go hard with us if we don't," said MacWilliams. "She is double
our size--with double our crew and guns. Our only chance is to keep our
course and try to weather the ship."

Uruj looked to the wizard for advice. The magician, being a rank
coward, found by his book that MacWilliams told the truth. Uruj
therefore agreed to MacWilliams's plan.

We could now see the ship over our lee bow, about three miles away. The
sea was heavy, but the _Hawk_ met the waves gallantly. We saw a thick
white puff of smoke from the forecastle of our pursuer.

"The wind looks like it will die down," said MacWilliams, who had been
anxiously watching the sky. "If it does, we will outsail her. The next
few moments should tell what the outcome will be."

It looked to us as if we must pass within pistol shot of the vessel,
and the thought of having to receive a broadside from her at such a
short distance was enough to make a braver lad than I shiver with
fright. Watson and his gunners stood at the cannon, waiting for Uruj's
command.

Our pursuer was close to us now--in full sail. We could see groups of
men about the gun ports, from which cannon jutted.

A voice hailed us.

"Ho! The schooner, ahoy!"

"Hello!" MacWilliams responded.

"What vessel is that?"

"The Tripolitan schooner _Hawk_, from Tripoli. What ship is yours?"

We could not catch the first part of the reply, but we did hear the
last words: "Haul down your flag and heave to!"

Uruj went down to tell Murad. We continued on our course.

"Heave to or we'll sink you," cried the challenger.

MacWilliams spoke to Uruj. "Do as you think best," said Uruj. "Fire the
bow guns," MacWilliams commanded Watson.

Our grapeshot whistled through the rigging of the frigate. We saw her
foresail fall.

Jets of flame issued from her ports and a broadside swept our decks.
Our sails were undamaged, but several shots tore through our hull,
injuring several of the sailors and soldiers with flying splinters,
though none was seriously hurt.

Before the next cannonade came, we had widened the distance between the
_Hawk_ and her pursuer. The winds, as MacWilliams had predicted, had
grown lighter, and the _Hawk_, a splendid sailer in light winds, showed
her heels handily to the enemy. Their shots struck us with less force,
and soon we saw the shots from their long gun falling short of us.

We had escaped from capture by a ship that evidently belonged to a
country that was hostile to the Tripolitans. If she had seized us the
renegades would have been treated in the same way that the Moslems
would be used, and therefore MacWilliams took this desperate chance. As
for me, I did not know whether to be glad or sorry, for if I had lived
through the battle, I could doubtless have proved that I had been held
in slavery. Yet the incident must have confirmed the Turks in their
opinion of MacWilliams' loyalty.

On another day we sighted a vessel that appeared to be _The Morning
Star_, but when she was nearly under our guns, and when Mustapha and I
were about to surrender hope of saving our riches, a freak of wind bore
her away from us, and we never saw her again.

Meanwhile, the scheme of rebellion and seizure was making steady
progress. The plan of mutiny as it had formed itself in MacWilliams's
mind was to provide ropes and irons near the hatchways, gratings and
cabins so that they could be closed from the outside at a moment's
notice. When this had been arranged, the next step was to dupe the
Moslems so that the most of them would be below deck when the signal
for attack was given. MacWilliams went about the work cautiously. To
have one traitor among us, he well knew, would cost every Christian his
life. Mustapha, being an Arab, hated the Moors, and entered the plot
eagerly.

Each man who consented to engage in the plot swore a sacred oath of
fidelity.

With those MacWilliams could not trust--renegades or slaves whose
character he could not read--his plan was, when the uprising came, to
put pistols to their breasts and threaten them with death if they did
not assist in the rebellion.

After hours that seemed as long as months had passed, he passed me the
word one night that the signal would be given on the morrow, before
noon. The rough weather we were laboring through was an aid to our
scheme.

The next morning MacWilliams made an inspection of the hold. Then he
came up to inform the Moslem lieutenant that there was much water in
the bilges, and that it would be necessary to trim the ship. Uruj,
suspecting nothing, consented. Our leader then asked that, for the same
purpose, the cannon that were forward should be moved aft. This being
done, he further requested that the Moslem soldiers be quartered aft so
as to bring the ship's bow out of the water. This was also agreed to.
Meanwhile, we had managed to store in a convenient place such weapons
as we would need.

When all these things had been done, to avoid suspicion, we went
about our regular duties. Our confederates of the gunner's force went
below deck with the infidel soldiers so that it would not appear that
there was a crowding together of the slaves and renegades. The rest
of us were set to pumping water by MacWilliams. I could tell by the
arrangement of the men, and by the way they acted, which were sharers
in the secret. There were about a score of us, and we had to contend
with double our number.

At noon, while most of the Turks that were on deck were aft, using
their weight to bring the stern into the water so that the water in the
vessel might flow towards the pumps, MacWilliams gave the signal to one
of the gunners to fire a cannon. An explosion followed--the signal for
us to proceed. With a ringing hurrah we sprang to the attack.

Each man had been assigned a specific duty: first we battened down the
hatches down which most of the Moslems had gone, so that the greater
part of our enemies were now prisoners; then we turned to conquer the
Moslems on deck.

There were twelve of them. They came at us with pistols, knives and
hatchets, calling us by their epithet, "Christian dogs!" But the dogs
had become bloodhounds now. Johansen, one of the Danes, swung one of
the cannon in their direction. They made a rush at him, but he fired
the gun directly at them, at which there was a terrific explosion--and
the decks became a welter of gore. The terrible death of these
Mohammedans caused the remaining Moslems to prostrate themselves before
us, their fury turned to abject fear.

Meanwhile, the Moslems imprisoned between decks were trying desperately
to break through the hatches. Murad, weak from sickness, yet rose up
beside Uruj to thunder threats against us and to urge his men on.
However, our victory on deck left us free to attend to those below.
Two men were stationed over each passageway, with orders to shoot any
infidel who by the use of hatchet or knife was able to break through
the planking.

MacWilliams stood over the hatchway below which Murad and Uruj raged.

"If you value your lives," he called, "you will surrender! My men
have orders to shoot any man who dares to lift his head. If you come
too strongly for our numbers, we will blow you to bits with your own
cannon. We are only two days' sail from Plymouth. Your precious wizard
hadn't enough insight to see that we were taking you nearer the coast
of England every hour we sailed. We will take you there, alive or dead.
If you would enter England with breath in your lungs, surrender!"

Uruj at once offered to surrender himself and his men as prisoners of
war. Murad cursed Uruj, but at last yielded. He reminded MacWilliams
that he had treated him with consideration.

"That I acknowledge," MacWilliams replied, "and I will so treat you as
well so long as you make no attempt to thwart us!"

The Mohammedans came out of the hatches one by one to be disarmed.
The chains they had in store for such Christians as they might take
captives were placed on their wrists and ankles. I was one of those who
were called upon to receive the arms. It was a task to make a youth
flinch to go from one scowling ruffian to another, collecting muskets,
pistols, dirks, and pikes, but I came through without much trouble,
having nothing harder thrown at me than curses. Murad flinched as I
came toward him with a dirk in my hand, but I only grinned at him. For
a keepsake, I took the cowering wizard's book of magic.

When the last Moslem was put in irons, MacWilliams brought out openly
his Bible.

"I call on all of you who are willing to be reconciled to their true
Savior," he said, "and who repent of being seduced by hopes of riches,
honor, preferment, and such devilish baits, to join me in praise and
prayer to the true God, whom we re-establish in our hearts and restore
in our worship."

With that he read to us this passage from the Psalms:


     "They that go down to the sea in ships, that do business in great
     waters;

     "These see the works of the Lord, and his wonders in the deep.

     "For he commandeth, and raiseth the stormy wind, which lifteth up
     the waves thereof.

     "They mount up to the heaven, they go down again to the depths;
     their soul is melted because of trouble.

     "They reel to and fro, and stagger like a drunken man, and are at
     their wit's end.

     "Then they cry unto the Lord in their trouble, and he bringeth
     them out of their distresses.

     "He maketh the storm a calm, so that the waves thereof are still.

     "Then are they glad because they be quiet; so he bringeth them
     unto their desired haven."


MacWilliams closed the Bible. "Now men," he said, "having given thanks
to the Almighty, let us wash the decks of infidel blood, so that our
ship will present a decent appearance when we enter the harbor of our
hopes."

We thereupon set about washing and holystoning the decks, and repairing
the damage resulting from the battle. Two days later, we entered
Plymouth harbor, astounding the town as we, in strange garb ourselves,
marched our captives in their queer Mohammedan dress to the town jail,
where they were left to the disposition of the Government. We heard
later that they were used in exchange for citizens of friendly European
nations, held in captivity in Tripoli.




CHAPTER XX

HOME SURPRISES


     "_Oh! dream of joy! Is this indeed_
     _The lighthouse top I see?_
     _Is this the hill? Is this the kirk?_
     _Is this mine own countree?_"


The owners of the _Hawk_ could not be found. The authorities decided
that we had the right to offer her for sale and to divide the money
among ourselves in proportions according to rank. Her value was placed
at eighteen thousand dollars--but MacWilliams, backed by a group of
merchants, purchased the ship for fifteen thousand dollars. He had not,
canny Scot, returned from Barbary with empty pockets. He bought the
_Hawk_ at auction, and was able to obtain it at a low price because
other merchants, when they saw his eagerness to obtain possession of
her, refrained from bidding.

I was eager to take passage for America, and MacWilliams, to
accommodate me, hurried the sale along so that Mustapha and myself
could have our share. With three hundred dollars apiece in our
possession, we bade him an affectionate farewell.

He changed the name of the _Hawk_ to the _Dove_, and vowed to me that
she should be used only on honorable missions.

"Lad, lad," he said, as he gripped my hand, "it's glad I am to see you
returning to a God-fearing home. When you remember William MacWilliams,
blot out the remembrance of ill deeds connected with my name, and
think of me as a repentant man who yet intends to leave a good name
behind him!"

We sailed for Baltimore in the brig _Lafayette_, Captain Lord. As we
entered the Patapsco River Mustapha pointed out a schooner lying off
Fell's Point. "Blessed be Allah--it's _The Morning Star_!" he cried.

"Pray then that her crew are not going ashore to spend our fortune!" I
said.

Our first thought was to go directly aboard the schooner, but we then
considered that we should have to furnish proof to her skipper that the
sacks belonged to us, and that in such dealings it would be better to
have the rector's support; therefore, we decided to seek him first.

As we passed a shop near the docks, I observed this sign above its door:


            ALEXANDER FORSYTH

               EXPORTER OF
     Fish, Flour, Tobacco, Corn and Furs

               IMPORTER OF
         Teas, Coffee and Spices


I entered and pounded on a desk.

"I want to buy a shipload of cannon balls to fire at the Dey of
Algiers! I want to charter a frigate that will blow Joseph, Bashaw of
Tripoli, to perdition! Fish, flour, tobacco--who's dealing in such tame
stuff--it's blood and thunder I'm after purchasing; it's muskets and
cutlasses I want. Show me your stock, man!"

A man with the build of a mastpole came out of the counting-room and
stared at me. I swaggered towards him, but, suddenly, overcome by
amusement at his puzzled look and joy at beholding him again, I sprang
forward and threw my arms about him.

"David!" he cried.

"Alexander," I answered.

We stood hugging each other like two polar bears.

In a few minutes of hurried chat, I found out that my brother,
recovering his health, had married Nell King, a Baltimore girl, and was
prospering as a merchant. Commodore Barney, who had backed Alexander in
business, was at sea. (How I fell in with him later and increased the
family fortunes by acting as chaplain on his privateer _Polly_ may not
be told now.)

Customers came into the shop, and promising to call on Alexander and
Nell that night, I broke away and went on up to the house. Mustapha,
gaping at the strange western land I had brought him to, and as
bewildered as I had been when I wandered through his desert cities,
walked closely beside me, clutching my arm. I saw some of the bullies
who had mutinied on board _The Rose of Egypt_. I think they recognized
me, but Mustapha and I were a stalwart pair, and the looks cast our way
by the dock loafers were more of respect than of hostility.

We approached the rector's house at dusk. A welcoming light shone
through the elms. I was swaggering along, thinking how much of a man I
would appear to the rector. The yellow glow from the window, however,
spread an influence that changed me into a soft-hearted boy. Here was
I, a sailor hardened through contact with all sorts of men, toughened
by wind, wave and warfare, yet brushing a tear from my cheek as I
saw the lamp in the parsonage shining out cheerier than the ray of a
lighthouse on a tempestuous night.

The door was bolted--I knocked. A girl answered, her face in the
shadows.

I was as much taken aback as if I had seen a ghost. I was not used to
seeing girls around the old home. Besides, Alexander had not warned me.

"Is it someone to see father?" she asked timidly.

"You are Nell, Alexander's wife?" I said boldly, "and a pretty choice
he made!"

"No!" she said, and I stood there in worse confusion than ever.

Yet there was something vaguely familiar in her tone.

"I beg your pardon," I said, "I thought Dr. Eccleston still lived here."

"He does!" she replied. "Please come in!"

We stepped into the hallway. I looked around, taking in each familiar
object.

"I am David Forsyth," I said, "perhaps you have heard the rector speak
of his boy who went to sea."

"I recognized you at first, David," she said, her face still in the
shadows. "What a grand surprise for the rector!"

I walked towards the library, but the rector had heard our voices. He
came out, spectacles in one hand, a book in the other. He stared at me
as if he could scarcely credit his own sight.

I was in his arms the next moment.

"David," he shouted. "I had almost given you up for lost! No letters!
And all the time I've been waiting to thank you for sending me my
precious jewel!"

I looked at Mustapha in puzzlement. What did he mean by "jewel"? Had he
gotten the treasure?

He turned to the mysterious girl, whose gold hair flashed in the
lamplight as if ten thousand diamonds were netted in it. I had seen a
girl's hair flashing in just such a way before! But where?

He saw me twirling my hat and grasped the situation:

"David," he explained, "this is my daughter! General Eaton told me that
it was you who first pointed her out to him in the Arab camp."

Heigho! I had gone forth to seek adventures, and here at my home
door was a more marvelous thing than any I had come upon. The girl
that General Eaton had bought from the Bedouin hag was no other than
the daughter the rector had lost in the desert! She was taller and
lovelier, and the more I looked the more flustrated I became. I had
always been shy before girls, and now I stood like a gawk, blushing
under her gaze. I wanted the floor to open when she came forward and
held up her lips in a matter-of-fact way for my kiss.

However, I did not dodge the invitation, for all my bashfulness.
Indeed, I might as well record here that that sisterly kiss became a
few months later the kiss of a sweetheart--but since I have no notion
of having this book end in a love story, we had better get back to our
course.

Mustapha, who had kept himself well in the rear, was now discovered by
Anne, and what a jabbering in Arabic took place. Whenever after that
I started to tell Anne of my adventures I found that she had already
heard it from Mustapha. I can't say that I was displeased at this,
because the lad--not that I deserved it--held me in high esteem, and
painted me in every episode as a great hero.

Over the supper table we learned how the rector and Anne had been
united. General Eaton had landed in Baltimore, and the rector,
beholding beside the General a girl who bore a striking resemblance to
his wife, stopped the officer in the street, questioned him, brought
him and his ward to the parsonage as his guests, and there, by matching
his story with that of Anne's, discovered that she was no other than
his own daughter. Her mother--Anne had only a slight remembrance of
her--must have died early in her captivity.

The next morning Mustapha and myself induced the rector to take a
stroll with us. We reached the dock where _The Morning Star_ was moored
just as she was being unloaded. As we started to go aboard we bumped
into a string of stevedores. Our search ended there and then, for among
the baggage these men carried were our sacks.

"Toss those confounded bags aside," cried the officer in charge of the
unloading. "I wonder if the cheeky rascal who sent them aboard thought
I was going to hunt over Baltimore for 'Rev. Ezekiel Eccleston of
Marley Chapel.'"

I approached him in my most respectful manner.

"Here, sir, is the Reverend Eccleston. He is the gentleman for whom the
sacks are intended, and I'm the 'cheeky rascal' who shipped them. Your
coxswain will recognize Mustapha here as the lad who stowed them in
your cutter. There wasn't much need of shipping the curios after all,
since my schooner arrived here almost as quickly as your ship."

He looked at me as if he wanted to pour out a flood of oaths. Then his
gaze wandered over the rector's garb and he grew less surly.

"It's lucky for you, sir," he said to my guardian, "that we didn't
pitch those sacks overboard! I like this cub's cheek--sending freight
aboard without even saying, 'By your leave!' If the bags hadn't been
addressed to a parson, overboard they'd have gone!"

"Your forbearance is much appreciated," said the rector. "The boy, I
believe, was in a trying situation."

I took out a roll of banknotes.

"We'll pay you in full for all the bother you've been put to. You
really saved this stuff from falling into the hands of the Turk, Joseph
Bashaw. Yet there was another skipper who wanted in the worst way
to carry those bags! In fact, he inquired for _The Morning Star_ at
several South Atlantic ports. I think you came in sight of him. But
we're none the less grateful to you, sir!"

He snatched from me a pound note. "Always glad to serve the Church," he
said civilly to the rector. "By the way, my men said there appeared to
be metal ornaments in the sacks--candlesticks for worship, I suppose?"

The rector, at a loss for a reply, stared at the sacks.

"Something of that sort! They will be very useful to the Church," I
answered, shouldering one. Mustapha followed suit with another, and the
rector, good man, dragged the third sack to a wagon I had hired. With
a load of worry removed from Mustapha and myself, we drove homeward. I
heard afterwards that _The Morning Star_, though then a freighter for
the Government, was a converted privateer and had even been suspected
of piracy while in Uncle Sam's employ. Her men had probably captured
and sunk many a ship without obtaining loot half as valuable as these,
our riches, which they so carelessly carried.

On the way home the rector questioned me concerning the contents of the
sacks, but I evaded him. Now, as we stood in the hallway, with the
sacks at our feet, I myself popped a question.

"Rector," I said, "if you were suddenly handed a good-sized fortune,
what would you do with it?"

He smiled.

"I suppose, David, that we all like to indulge in such day-dreams.
First, I should erect a larger church here--this business of hanging
our church-bell to a tree is getting sadly out of fashion. Then I
should build mission chapels in the border settlements. Then Alexander
should have capital with which to expand his trade with the West
Indies. Then I should send you to Yale College--it's really time now,
David, that you settled down to your studies. Then I should send
General Eaton some funds. Congress praised him, but has since neglected
him, and the poor fellow is low in spirits and failing in health.
Then----"

"Rector," I said, "all those wishes and as many more are granted. I
found both Aladdin's lamp and Ali Baba's cave in the deserts of Africa.
Stand by and watch me bring all of your day-dreams true! Fall too,
Mustapha, servant of the geni!"

With our jackknives we slashed open the sacks. The treasure hoard of
the ancients--the priceless jewelry and trinkets which the rector long
ago had discovered and then sealed up and abandoned--poured out in
gleaming confusion at his feet.




POSTSCRIPT

THE END OF THE PIRATES


So far as my fortunes are concerned, I was rid forever of Barbary's
corsairs. But, to make my narrative complete, it may be well to state
that the end of their piracies was in sight, and that Stephen Decatur
was the man who struck the blow that marked the beginning of their end.

The United States had borne these insults and oppressions meekly during
the time she was evolving into a nation, but at last, under Decatur,
her true spirit showed itself. The Dey of Algiers, the last to affront
us, was at length forced to take tribute in the way our naval officers
had long wished to deliver it--from the cannon's mouth.

The War of 1812 tempered the spirit of our navy for this closing
campaign with the buccaneers of Barbary. The frigate _Constitution_
thrilled the nation by her victory over the British warship
_Guerrière_, although the _Constitution's_ captain, Isaac Hull, had
to steal out to do battle without the knowledge of the timid Monroe
administration, which feared that our ships were no match for the
British frigates. Then the _United States_, commanded by Captain
Stephen Decatur, defeated and captured the _Macedonian_, one of the
swiftest and strongest and best-equipped ships in John Bull's navy,
and Lieutenant Archibald Hamilton marched into a ball given to naval
officers in Washington with the flag of the captured ship across his
shoulders.

Then the _Constitution_ met the British frigate _Java_, and by splendid
gunnery reduced her to a burning hulk. Then the British had their
innings and Captain Broke, of the _Shannon_, defeated the chivalrous
but over-confident Captain Lawrence in the _Chesapeake_.

Decatur, with his feathers drooping somewhat from the fact that he had
been forced to surrender the _President_ to two British frigates after
a hard fight, was sent, after the treaty of peace had been signed, to
deal again with the Barbary states, to which we still paid tribute.
These powers had grown insolent again when the United States became
engaged in war with England and had resumed their piracy. Decatur
sailed in the flagship _Guerrière_ and commanded a squadron of nine
vessels.

Algiers, the chief offender this time, had organized a strong navy
under the command of Admiral "Rais Hammida," called "the terror of
the Mediterranean." Decatur's squadron sighted this Algerine admiral
in his forty-six-gun frigate _Mashouda_ off Cape Gatte, and pursued
and captured the Turkish ship. Her captain was killed in the first
encounter.

Decatur now proceeded to Algiers to bring the Dey to terms. The captain
of the port came out insolently to meet him. "Where is your navy?"
demanded Decatur.

"Safe in some neutral port!" retorted the Algerine officer.

"Not the whole of it," Decatur said. "We have already captured the
frigate _Mashouda_ and the brig _Estido_, and Admiral Hammida is dead."

The captive lieutenant of the _Mashouda_ was brought forth to confirm
these statements. The Dey's representative became humble and begged
that hostilities should cease until a treaty could be drawn up on shore.

"Hostilities will go on until a treaty is made," Decatur replied, "and
a treaty will be made nowhere but on board the _Guerrière_!"

The officer came out again the next day and began haggling over terms
in true Oriental fashion. Decatur stuck to his terms, which included
the release of all Americans held in slavery and the restoration of
their property. He demanded an immediate decision, threatening:

"If your squadron appears before the treaty is signed by the Dey and if
American captives are on board, I shall capture it."

The port officer left. An hour afterward an Algerine man-of-war
appeared. Decatur ordered his officers to prepare for battle. Manning
the forts and ships were forty thousand Turks.

Before the squadron got under way, however, the Dey's envoy was seen
approaching, flying a white flag--the token of surrender.

All of the terms had been agreed to. We were to pay no further tributes
to the pirate prince. Our ships were to be free from interference. Ten
Americans that had been held in captivity were delivered up. They knelt
at Decatur's feet to thank God for their release and rose up to embrace
their flag.

From Algiers, Decatur sailed to Tunis and then to Tripoli, and actually
forced their rulers to pay indemnities for breaking, during the period
of our war with Britain, the treaties they had made with the United
States.

Decatur thus put an end to the attacks of the Moors upon American
merchant ships. He had set an example that Britain was soon to follow.


BRITAIN FOLLOWS DECATUR'S LEAD

British consuls and sea-faring men were still being insulted and
molested by Moslems. Public indignation in England rose to such a
height that the British government sent Sir Edward Pellew, upon whom
had been bestowed the title Lord Exmouth, to negotiate similar terms.
The fleet sailed first to Tunis and Tripoli and forced the two Beys to
promise to abolish Christian slavery. An element of humor came into the
situation at Tunis, for Caroline, Princess of Wales, was on a tour of
the country, and was not above accepting the hospitality of the Bey,
no matter what wrongs to her countrymen went on under the surface. Her
entertainment included picnics among the ruins of Carthage and the
orange groves of Tunis, to which she was driven in the Bey's coach and
six. She was indignant when word reached her that a bombardment from
her own fleet threatened to put an end to her pleasures. She sought to
interfere, but the Admiral was firm. The Princess took refuge on board
one of the English ships; the squadron prepared to attack; but the Bey
yielded.

The squadron now proceeded to Algiers. Here the Dey protested so
vehemently that the Admiral agreed to the ruler's proposal to send
ambassadors to England to lay his case before the final authorities. No
sooner had the fleet returned to England than news came of a massacre
of Italians under British protection in Bona, by Algerines acting under
orders actually given by the Dey while Lord Exmouth was at Algiers.

There was, in the port of Bona, a little to the east of Algiers, a
coral fishery carried on under the protection of Britain. Corsicans,
Neapolitan and other fishermen came here to gather coral. On the 23rd
of May, 1816, Ascension Day, as the fishermen were preparing to attend
Mass, a gun was fired from the castle and two thousand Moslem soldiers
opened fire on the helpless fishermen and massacred them. Then the
English flags were torn to pieces and the British Vice-Consul's house
wrecked and pillaged.

Lord Exmouth's squadron, on its way to punish the corsairs for these
atrocities, fell in with five frigates and a corvette under the Dutch
Admiral, Van de Capellan. All civilized nations had been aroused by the
massacre of the Italian coral fishers, and the Dutch were eager to take
part in the expedition to punish the murderers. Lord Exmouth welcomed
them, and the combined fleets set sail for Algiers.

Lord Exmouth sent a letter ashore to the Dey demanding that the
Algerians abolish making slaves of Christians; that they surrender
such Christian slaves as they now held; that they restore ransom money
exacted from Italian slaves, make peace with Holland, and free the
lately imprisoned British Consul, and other English captives. The Dey
was allowed three hours in which to reply. No answer came. Lord Exmouth
began the battle.

His flagship, _Queen Charlotte_, led the fleet to the attack. Reaching
the left-hand end of the mole, she anchored, thus barring the mouth of
the harbor. In this position, her guns could sweep the whole length and
breadth of the mole. Up came the _Superb_, the _Minden_, the _Albion_,
and the _Impregnable_. Meanwhile, the foe had opened fire and the
_Queen Charlotte_ had replied with three broadsides that ruined the
mole's defences and killed five hundred men.

The Dutch squadron and the British frigates came in under a heavy fire
and engaged the shore batteries. The Algerian gunboats, screened by
the smoke of the guns, came out to board the _Queen Charlotte_. The
_Leander_, lying beyond the smoke, saw them and sunk thirty-three out
of thirty-seven with her batteries.

At last the enemy's guns were silenced. The British and Dutch fleets
withdrew into the middle of the bay. The defeated Dey accepted the
British terms. The English consul was released. Three thousand slaves
were set free; some of these had been in prison for thirty years. The
bombardment destroyed part of the house of the American consul Shaler,
who, the British afterwards testified, did all in his power to aid the
English.

The British squadron gained its victory at the cost of one hundred and
twenty-eight men killed and six hundred and ninety men wounded. Lord
Exmouth led his men with Nelson-like gallantry. He was wounded in three
places, his telescope was knocked from his hand by a shot, and his
coat was cut to ribbons. Even this punishment did not entirely crush
the corsairs. It was reserved for the French to put an end to their
piracies.

But that campaign did not begin until 1830--and my story can not run on
forever.




SOURCES OF INFORMATION DRAWN UPON BY THE AUTHOR


"The Narrative and Critical History of America," edited by Justin
Winsor.

"American State Papers, Foreign Relations."

"Debates of Congress," compiled by Thomas H. Benton.

"Life of the Late General William Eaton," by Charles Prentiss,
published in 1813 in Brookfield, Mass.

"Ocean Life in the Old Sailing Ship Days," by Captain John D. Whidden.

"From the Forecastle to the Cabin," by Captain S. Samuels.

"Round the Galley Fire," by W. Clark Russell.

"The Story of Our Navy," by Edgar Stanton Maclay.

"A History of the United States Navy," by John R. Spears.

"Our Navy and the Barbary Corsairs," by Gardner W. Allen.

"The Barbary Corsairs," by Stanley Lane-Poole.

"Yankee Ships and Yankee Sailors," by James Barnes.

"Maryland Chronicles," by Scharf.

"Africa," by Frank G. Carpenter.

"Rambles and Studies in Greece," by Mahaffy.

"Winters in Algeria," by F. A. Bridgman.

"The Romance of Piracy," by E. Keble Chatterton. (The episode of
David's escape in the ship _Hawk_ is founded on an actual adventure
that occurred in 1622, related in Mr. Chatterton's book. The story
of the mutiny aboard _The Rose of Egypt_ was suggested by an actual
episode--described in Captain Samuel's autobiography.)

To Deane H. Uptegrove and George Mullien, the writer is indebted for
advice concerning the sea episodes that appear in this book. The
New York Public Library, The Newark Public Library, the East Orange
Public Library, and the private library of the _New York Evening Post_
have been helpful in giving the author access to material not easily
obtainable.





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